


Dearest Life

by InnerSpectrum



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha John Watson, Alpha Mycroft Holmes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Feels, BAMF John Watson, BAMF Mycroft Holmes, BAMF Sherlock Holmes, BAMFcroft, Eventual Happy Ending, Exhibitionism, Feral Sherlock Holmes, Feral john Watson, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kidnapped John Watson, Kidnapped Sherlock Holmes, Mpreg, Multi, Omega Sherlock Holmes, Omega Verse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Semi-Public Sex, Sexism, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-14 19:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 69
Words: 193,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: This is based on a prompt found in the AO3 Facebook.Sherlock is an Omega whose Alpha and mate died or mysteriously disappeared, thus severing their bond, which almost killed him as well. Sherlock is devastated and very depressed. An Omega who lost their mate is worthless at the eyes of society. They are damaged goods, used. If they are young and fertile enough, they will be sent to breeding camps and spend the rest of their lives in slavery and misery. Which Mycroft would never let happen, or, there was the option of becoming the Second Mate of an Alpha who was already bonded. The Omega would be welcomed into the family, have the pups the Alpha wished and live comfortably and protected. There would be no love and the second's mate place was very low compared to the first, but it was better than the alternative.Still mourning his beloved Alpha, Sherlock refuses to be someone else's mate, of course. But time is running out and Mycroft will not let his brother go to the camps. So Sherlock is forced to marry John, a wealthy Alpha doctor, who is already married to Mary, an infertile Beta.





	1. Time Flies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nat_oliver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat_oliver/gifts).



> All credit given naturally to Mr. Steven Moffat, Mr. Mark Gatiss, and of course Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for such inspiring characters.
> 
> Please note: my ABO dynamics and world build do not follow the _established norms_ for such. I know I will disappoint some with my interpretation of ABO. I hope to engage most with my take on it, but it is just that, _MY_ take. 
> 
> Also, I am horrible at tags because I personally abhor seeing a fic with a gazillion tags at the top. I am an angst writer - there are going to be parts that will not be liked - you read at your own risk. If I know a chapter may be an issue I will try to remember to place a TW at the top of that specific chapter. This is a WIP, if I miss a big one, please forgive me and be polite in letting me know when you comment, I will certainly add it. That being said, this is my story - what Muse wants, Muse gets. I hope you enjoy reading this as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> This fic updates weekly on Tuesdays. Sometimes I may surprise with an extra post later in the week.

“Today is harder to bear for the obvious reasons and you know how I abhor being obvious. It is still autumn. The reds, golds and browns of the season are past their peak and fading fast, but It is mostly sunny. El Sol peeking through the pockets of cerulean in the cumulus clouded skies. The air has enough of a bite for me to finally don my great coat and favorite scarf, my gloves remain in my pocket for now. I imagine your blue eyes sparkling in the sun as the breeze plays havoc with your blond hair. The way it always lifted the ends of the few fly-a-ways that annoyed you, but delighted me. Yes, I know your favorite season was spring, but you would have loved the weather today.”

Sherlock Holmes’ verdigris eyes blurred with unshed tears as he scanned the surroundings. The fallen leaves adding color to the fading green grass of the immaculate grounds of the cemetery.

_It is such a beautiful place to be filled with such sadness. It is so unfair. Time is running out for autumn._

_And for me._

He gave a few more moments in quiet contemplation to the man he still loved before he stood at last.

He reached out, long pale fingers glide over the name carved into the cold marble, so opposite of the once warm life for which it stood.

VICTOR GABRIEL TREVOR  
_Devoted Alpha_  
_Beloved Husband_  
_Time passes. Love endures._

  
Sherlock flipped up the fallen collar on his coat, turned and walked away.

“See you next week, my love.”

* * *

  
Mycroft Holmes’ cool blue eyes watched as the tall figure of his brother rose from his knees and walked away from his beloved husband’s grave. It was his weekly visit to Victor. Never more than seven days have passed without a visit. Today marked exactly a year since the Alpha passed away.

_Time flies even when one is utterly miserable, Brother Mine. Life can be so insufferably cruel._

Days like this even he is unsure whether it was a blessing or a curse to have allowed Sherlock to have his own mind. The continuing question of his status would be resolved by now had he followed the traditional upbringing for Omega and left him relatively ignorant.

_Do not lie to yourself Mycroft. Even as a seven your old to his being newly born you knew Sherlock was never going to be a simpering omega. He was always going to be smarter than nearly everyone around him regardless._

He thought of the choices his brother faced. One choice Mycroft himself would not allow to happen to his brother. The other currently untenable to the man himself. Still, Sherlock was an unbonded Omega in the world. He really had no choice in the matter. Sherlock will have to get it done within the next few months or …

_No! There is no OR! God no! Fratricide would happen before I EVER allowed that to happen to you!_

Mycroft visibly shuddered in horror at the thought, schooling his face in time as Sherlock drew near. He gave his younger brother a curt nod as he held the sedan door open. Sherlock returned the nod as he climbed in. The ride was comfortably silent between them as they gazed out of the windows, each lost in his own thoughts.

He knew the conversation must be had, for time was assuredly running out for Sherlock. Still, his cold-hearted reputation notwithstanding, even Mycroft could not be so heartless as to bring up that subject on this day.

_Tomorrow, Brother Mine, tomorrow. We will discuss this._


	2. Without You By My Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Then just kill me, Brother Mine. Just kill me.”
> 
> “If I have to.”

Lestrade as always stood off to the side keeping forensics at bay for a moment as Sherlock looked over the crime scene and ran it down.

“Male. Late 30s. Left handed. Office worker. Blunt force trauma was delivered by someone who is right handed. I’d say the assailant is no taller than 170 centimeters from the ang…”

Sherlock twitched as a short stab of pain went through him.

_What was that?_

Then another burst of pain spiked sharper than the previous, making him gasp.

“Sherlock? You okay?” Greg turned to him at the sound.

_Victor?_

Sherlock moaned as an acute pain laced through his psyche and brought him to his knees. “ _Alpha‽_ ”

“Sherlock‽” Lestrade ran to his side and fell to his own knees beside him.

The consulting detective gritted his teeth as he doubled over blind to everything around him as the pain spiked as if every single synapse in his body snapped simultaneously.

Lestrade had his mobile out calling Mycroft when Sherlock’s entire body convulsed.

And he screamed.

And he screamed…

And he screamed….

 

* * *

“ _MOVE!_ ”

Mycroft roared as ran into the hospital.

People and equipment seemingly parting before the Alpha and then falling in his wake magically, as he followed his brother’s screams down the corridor.

Volume not withstanding, he knew he was at Sherlock’s room when he found a doctor and two nurses crumbled on the floor outside the door desperately covering their ears, rendered helpless, unable to move from the sound.

They had thought they were dealing with a hysterical Beta male and attempted to triage him as such.

Then Sherlock slipped into harmonics.

All Omegas had the ability to access harmonics to varying degrees. Most never clear past an octave or two of their normal voice. A good number can access a three octave range which can cause some tinnitus that easily recovered from in most Betas. In his pain, Sherlock had gone into full harmonics. Beta ears cannot bear the piercing upper registries of Omega harmonics. As an Alpha of direct blood family it had less of an effect on him, but he still felt it as he snatched the syringe and bottle from the fallen doctor’s hand, read the contents and then entered the room.

The closed door had dulled the sound. Mycroft himself nearly buckled as the full assault of Sherlock’s harmonics hit.

_Oh Holy God!_

Broken glass was on the floor. Sherlock’s sixth octave easily sailed past the 1046.502 Hz range. Even he had not known his brother could do that. That the Beta hospital staff made it out of the room at all was a miracle. Clearly Sherlock had not reached this octave when they were in the room. Only their eardrums would have ruptured, _if they were lucky_.

The _distressed omega_ pheromones hit Mycroft next. He gritted his teeth as got closer to his brother. He tamped down hard on his Alpha biology wanting to turn feral in protection of the Omega. Sherlock could kill a weaker Alpha at this range and not know he had done so.

Mycroft knew only one thing could have caused this: the bond was violently severed. Victor Trevor-Holmes was dead. The only person who could have easily stopped this was the cause.

Mycroft hated doing so, but had no choice. He pitched his voice to mimic Victor’s to try to break through to his brother.

“ _SHERLOCK!_ ”

“ _ALPHA‽_ ”

Sherlock stopped screaming in the surprise of what his mind thought was his Alpha’s voice calling to him and trembled. He was silent just long enough for Mycroft to run across the room and jab him with the syringe in his neck before the next scream could erupt. It took a surprising amount of his strength to hold his baby brother until the tranquilizer took full effect that reduced Sherlock to piteous whimpers as he cried out for his Alpha.

 

* * *

“ _SHERLOCK!_ ”

Sherlock’s eyes popped open. He looked around his bedroom confused for a moment as Mycroft’s voice penetrated the fog of his nightmare that relived the moment the bond with his husband severed. He felt his brother’s arm tighten around his shoulders pulling him close. He did not try to fight it. He did not try to pretend he was fine as he curled into his brother’s hold and let the tears fall.

He had pushed that memory deep into his mind palace. He had had to, to survive, but he could not delete it. He was not surprised that horrifying moment was at the forefront enough to have the effect on him, given yesterday was the first anniversary of Victor’s passing.

_365 days without you by my side. I miss you so much Victor!_

Most Alphas and Omegas come out from the potential deadlier effects a severed bond, seizures and aneurisms, within a few days, generally taking up to a month fully recover as the omega body learns how to live on its own again. The older the bond the stronger it can become over time. Some older couples have died within a week of severance. It is not unheard of for much older bonded couples to die within hours of each other. Sherlock was in the hospital for nearly three months. He was on life support for the first two months alone, all but comatose.

He was told that Mycroft and Mummy had been asked if it were more humane to simply put him down. Mycroft refused and Mummy supported her eldest son’s decision. Both knowing Sherlock had buried himself deep in his mind palace and he would come out when he was ready to deal with it. He had done the same, to a lesser extreme, when their father had died. When Sherlock emerged at last he found himself in Mycroft’s arms just as he was now.

“Apologies, Brother.” Sherlock sat up after a while, his voice rough.

“Understandable given the date.” Mycroft rose from the bed and took off his jacket, the lapel damp from his brother’s tears. “The results when suppressed sentiment finds an alternate route of expression. I expected it would happen tonight as it had not last night.”

“You didn’t use Victor’s voice to bring me out this time.”

“It was not needed. You were not going into harmonics. You have not done so in the last few months.”

“I suppose that means I am getting better.” He sighed knowing where the conversation was headed.

“No Mycroft. Not better enough for that. Don’t.” Sherlock shook his head, _I don't want to hear this Mycroft._

“Do you realize how lucky you are you’re still free at all, Sherlock? Were you not nearly comatose those first months and your time extended accordingly, you would already be settled.” Mycroft pulled up a chair and sat by the bed.

 _Yet, we are having this conversation_ again _regardless._

“Settled.” Sherlock snorted in disdain at the word. “That’s exactly what I would be doing. Nothing and no one will ever be as Victor.”

“And no one else should be. What you had with Victor was unique. That does not mean you cannot find some form of peace in knowing you’re protected. Sherlock I am afraid you’re going to be out there and the wrong Alpha is going to smell you. By the time I find you, if I do, my hands may be tied. I’m working on the legislation, but right now I cannot help you if you’re pulled from the streets by some Alpha Neanderthal who thinks any unbonded Omega is ripe to be taken as a sex toy or sold to breeders.” Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. The two of them have had this conversation countless times these past few weeks. He was just as tired of it.

“Then work faster!” Sherlock snarled. “Alphas are not considered less worthywhen their bonds break. I am not _used goods_ , just because I am Omega! I will NOT be some broodmare because of some antiquated, barbaric imperative that should have been abolished ages ago, yet has still managed to exist through the generations!”

“Archaic, barbaric and if you don’t get married again within the next three months that is exactly what will happen, Sherlock!”

“I know, Mycroft!”

“Then act like it! Let me find a match for you.” Mycroft stood. He knew this conversion was going to get no further this night.

“An arranged marriage Mycroft? Surely you jest!” Sherlock looked to his brother utterly appalled as Mycroft headed for the door.

Sherlock lowered his head into his hands and sighed softly. “Then just kill me, Brother Mine. Just _kill_ me.”

“If I have to.” Mycroft sighed just as softly as he closed the door behind him.

The quiet after his brother’s exit sent a shiver to Sherlock’s core as he realized Mycroft has already contemplated exactly that.


	3. Primum Non Nocere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan was the only one who saw the warning flash in the alpha’s eyes. The beta had barely moved out of the way in time when a blur named John Watson passed him. Dennison found himself slammed against a wall, his throat in the vice grip of one enraged doctor, the tenuous grip on his temper lost at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. A week ago I lost the thumb drive that held all of my stories before I had a chance to back it up. There were six chapters between the two WIPs I have up now and ideas and plot bunnies that are just *gone*. It's been a few days of mental self-flagellation for the lost work. I finally felt like writing for this story again on Thursday. 
> 
> Consider this fair warning to my fellow writers out there. Save and back your work ASAP, because you never know.

“Please tell me what part of _primum non nocere_ 1 did you misunderstand?”

Dr. John Watson was not a particularly happy camper at the moment. With the Alpha doctor Franklyn Dennison and the two Beta doctors Arturo Ryan and Clancy Forrest in tow, he knew he stalked down the corridors at a pace that made it difficult for the two betas to follow, they were just short of jogging as it was to keep up.

He did not care.

_I cannot believe the lot of them. Dennison at least has the grace to look the most contrite of the three arses. But then he knows he should have known better._

Watson blazed by the nurses’ station with a perfunctory wave. He imagined his face showed his ire as only one waved back. Facilities was still sore about the last hole they had to patch up a few months ago when he punched a wall in frustration after a patient had died. That frustration they at least understood. After closing slackened-jaws upon the reminder he is an Alpha, that is. While he was more rugged and stockier than most of the average build Beta males he was often mistaken for. Though not short for a beta, he was considered a little short for what most people think of when they think of an Alpha male. It was a blessing in that it made him more approachable to his patients. And a curse when the countless idiots who buy into the stereotypes that all Alphas were built oversized, like Franklyn Dennison, challenge him much to their own embarrassment in the end. Dennison, a known bully even among the alpha doctors, wore his physical Alpha stereotypes of height, speed, strength, agility and on occasions like today - his more brawn than brain - like a badge of honor.

Still, John knew facilities would not be quite as forgiving if a new hole in the wall came with one of his colleague’s head filling it.

_Well, they might forgive me if it’s Dennison’s head. Still, better not chance it._

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his ire with his colleagues.

While the other three doctors wore dressier trousers and shirts under their respective coats. John’s open lab coat showed smart, but relaxed trousers or jeans, checked shirts and jumpers, with the sleeves pushed up of course, that were all but his trademark outfit when at the hospital. It was part of what made John approachable and Franklyn a twat on first impressions.

Dennison was in fact a highly recommended caregiver _to those he chooses_. Therein laid the rub.

“John, just because you were willing to take that risk for the boy does not mean the rest of us had to!” Dennison griped.

“You are correct. It does not mean you had to. However, the lot you should have at least _wanted_ to do what was best for him. And if you did not want to, you should have immediately gone to Ryan as chief of staff to let him know or come to me and let me, the closest thing this hospital has to a specialist in the matter, decide. But did you even do that little? No. You let the boy wallow in unnecessary agony for no reason, before you almost made the idiotic decision you did! Thank GOD Forrest is a gossip and the child’s mother overheard him mention my name.” John slammed through the double doors of pediatrics to the main lifts.

“I saw the x-rays and MRIs. Would not a clean amputation above the breaks have been a more prudent choice?” Ryan asked.

“He’s a boy. Prudent? Perhaps. Quick? Yes.” John pressed the call button for the lifts. “But can any of you look me in the face and tell me that it would have been the best decision for his continued quality of life?”

“What quality of life? He has recently expressed as Omega, right?” Forrest snorted, not noticing that Ryan had taken a step back as John stopped short and slowly turned.

“Clancy, he’s a _boy_. Do you even know what happened to him?” John’s head tilted slightly, a small smile played at his lips. Ryan gritted his teeth knowingly.

“Direct blows to the ulna and radius, causing a Monteggia fracture.” Forrest rattled off stats automatically until he saw John’s darkening expression.

“Let me rephrase the question, you ignorant arse! Do you know, not how, but _why_ the arm was broken? Did you even care to ask beyond the rudimentary? Or did you immediately dismiss him the moment you saw Omega in his chart and left it at that?” John folded his arms across his chest.

“A door was accidentally slammed against the omega’s arm, correct?” Ryan looked from Forrest to John.

“That boy, like every other boy, spent the first eleven years of his life being told he could be anything he wanted to be. He wanted to be a scientist. Because he had the misfortune to not be born to the elite and the odds were stacked so high against it happening, no one prepared him for even the remotest possibility he could express as a secondary gender, let alone as an Omega. Which means any knowledge he had was likely off the streets and we know the veracity of the intelligence found there by this very conversation. Here we are four months into his eleventh year of life when puberty drop kicks in early and he expresses as an omega. He is given a crash course on what his potential life could be and is informed in no uncertain terms that it will not be as a scientist because society has it so drilled in people’s minds that omegas, especially a male omega driven by hormonal heat is considered at the bottom of the intelligence pecking order. I’ve seen some people regard their pets with having more intelligence than an omega. Now add in that he has beta parents who are not elite born. He will not be shielded from the worst of what society now thinks and expects of him as an omega male. He was not shielded from what  _you_ now think of him.” John said pointedly and a lot more calmly than he felt.

“Wait, you’re saying he did it on purpose?” Dennison blinked.

John looked at the man incredulously. He expected that level of ignorance from the two betas, but not from another Alpha. It is a known fact among them that most male omega suicides happen within the first three years of expressing. The numbers are even higher among the non-elite where it is an abrupt, and because of the stereotypes, an often-unwanted adjustment to their lives.

“Christ! Did not one of you lot actually look, no not look, actually READ the boy’s file?” John threw his hands up in exasperation.

“He’s an omega!” Forrest offered as though that explained everything.

“He’s a BOY!” John exploded. This time it was Forrest who took the step back.

“He was a rough and tumble boy who has just found out in no uncertain terms that his basic objectives in life now are to be pretty, be docile, be a baby machine and be _fucked_. He has already learned no one wants a deformed omega. So yes, he broke his own arm, or rather had help in having it broken in the juvenile hopes no one wants damaged goods. He has _no clue_ what’s out there where a damaged omega is easy prey. And when he was brought in for triage, once you saw omega in his file, you left him in emergency to work on a beta child with a sprained wrist from playing football. You only remembered to mention him to Dennison when you happened to pass him by in the hall? You did not so much as offer the boy paracetamol for his pain.” John turned from Forrest to Ryan and Dennison “And you two idiots want to amputate his arm and give him even less of a chance to fight if the wrong person grabs him before he’s grown up to be properly bonded. I _could_  be wrong, but I most sincerely doubt it when I say, I’ve never met anyone of any gender when faced with potentially losing a limb say they’d rather be an amputee than do everything to save the appendage first if possible. And you lot know it’s possible!” John practically snarled at the end.

The ensuing silence of the three doctors gave John a moment to take a breath, before continuing.

"My God do you not understand what can happen to him? Scent blockers are expensive. He could be snatched from the streets and bred numerous times before he's reached his majority. And when he's dried out who is going to want him then? He wouldn't even be considered worthy enough to be Second Mate!"

"Second Mate, John" Dennison slightly frowned as he considered the thought, “Actually, John maybe you and Mary could take the boy and – gaaackkk!" 

Ryan was the only one who saw the warning flash in the alpha’s eyes. The beta had barely moved out of the way in time when a blur named John Watson passed him. Dennison found himself slammed against a wall, his throat in the vice grip of one enraged doctor, the tenuous grip on his temper lost at last.

“Finish that sentence. I fucking dare you!” John growled as he held Dennison up by the neck, the alpha’s feet did not touch the floor.

"JOHN!" Forrest grabbed at John's wrist, unable to budge a single finger loose as Dennison started to turn colors.

_Hmm, he probably can’t speak while I’m closing his airway. Let him go Watson._

John swung the arm holding Dennison and sent the taller Alpha flying away from him towards the opposite wall. Dennison slid to the floor gasping.

“Jesus Christ, I keep forgetting…” Ryan went to Dennison who slowly got up from the floor with Forrest's help.  "What the hell were you thinking, bringing that up, Franklyn?'

"Clearly, I wasn't." Dennison took in a harsh breath and choked out the words. The imprint of John’s grasp on his neck was vivid and will be for several days, “I’m sorry John. I know you and … I know...sorry.”

“Good. Don't ever let my wife's name cross your lips again like that you bastard." John sniffed “As for young Jerry Lorimar, even though I am not a pediatrician, his mother brought him to me, so he is officially my patient. You three ignored him, all but abandoned him, solely because he’s an omega and can take the pain. So, I’ll end this with the same question that began it: Please tell me what part of _primum non nocere_ did you misunderstand?”

He is met with the same silence from the three doctors as when he first asked it.

He sighed and shook his head sadly. That was when he saw it: the imprint left in the wall, roughly the size of Dennison’s upper torso and head.

And then he saw the audience of staff, visitors and patients who witnessed it.

_And I was holding back! Fuck!_

John turned on his heel and walked away from them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ _primum non nocere_ ” = An important step in becoming a doctor, medical students must take the Hippocratic Oath. One of the promises within that oath is “first, do no harm” (“primum non nocere”). ^return to paragraph^


	4. On Your Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John will go to his grave not knowing what compelled him to hit his horn to get the other driver’s attention only to find himself impaled by the coldest pale green eyes he had ever seen under those unruly dark curls.

It was late afternoon and not having any other appointments at the hospital or the clinic for the rest of the day, John decided that to get away from both was prudent given his mood. He had been driving along the motorways for few hours letting the crisp autumn air from the open windows of his Jaguar fill his lungs as afternoon turned into evening.

Still, the case with the young Omega, Jerry Lorimar, was under his skin.

_There but for the grace…_

He wanted to call his wife, hear her voice, but Dr. Mary Elizabeth Watson was currently in Bolivia working with _Médecins Sans Frontières_. She has been gone for forever, technically it was almost nine months, it just felt exceedingly long this run, but she will be home in a week. They had spoken just last night. He would have to wait until their scheduled time to talk again in a few days. Thinking of the fierce blond woman brought a much needed smile to his face.

They had met when he had done a couple of tours with MSF after he left the Royal Army. He took the knowledge gained from both services and turned it into a thriving practice in London. Mary followed him to London when her tour was over and stayed. She worked in a clinic with the City’s poor while he started his practice. They dated and grew closer. After two years of enjoying each other as an Alpha and Beta couple, they added to that joy by becoming man and wife. Then they decided it was time to officially try to start a family. Both were a little surprised it had not happened on its own and took complete physicals.

That was when they were hit with the cruel twist of Fate’s irony that the doctor who had dreamed of having their children learned she had a congenital genetic quirk which rendered her infertile. She and John were both heartbroken, but neither could bring themselves to adopt or use any other method available to them. And while working with London’s youth brought Mary much satisfaction, John knew it was working with the impoverished children in third-world and developing countries that was her calling. That was where she thrived. He was so happy to see that spark of life in her eyes again, after the disappointment, he gave no objections when she took on a new assignment though it separated them for months. They began their every other week video chat dates then.

Now in their fifth year of marriage, it worked well for them, with only that one thing to mar their idyll. She now spent part of her time doing what she loves working with young teens through  _Médecins Sans Frontières_ and part of her time being with her husband.

When they last spoke Mary had told him about a teen omega female who had no clue of her second gender until she went into heat. The girl was brought in by her mother when a neighbor found the girl after being missing for three days. She was half dead from beatings and multiple rapes.

_“Because if no one knows fuck all else about an omega, even if they never heard of an omega. everyone somehow knows Omegas can take the pain, right?”_

How Mary’s voice broke bitterly on that.

The girl, whose body was half-malnourished before the heat, could not create enough slick for the demand asked of it. Though the doctor’s doubted it, it would be another week before anyone would know if a pregnancy had taken place. They only thing they knew for sure was that all the males who raped her were beta for no one bonded her. She would live, her body would heal, for omega bodies were very resilient, but her parents had made it clear they did not want her back. They knew next to nothing of secondary genders where they were and thought her a freak against nature when it was explained. She was now pariah to her family and a whore to her community.

“Oh John! Her first heat and it was six days! The things she asked for, the things she tried to do to herself to alleviate the need. Even after what they did to her! We had to put her on suppressants to calm her until we could gauge it was through. And we have no idea when her next cycle will be; if it will be that intense again, nothing. It was a nightmare on all counts.” Mary had broken down into wracking sobs as she told John of the girl.

With that conversation fresh in his mind, and Jerry Lorimar on top of it reminding John of when he first expressed, Dennison truly could not have possibly pushed a more wrong button with the suggestion that he and Mary take eleven-year-old Jerry Lorimar as a Second Mate. Mary would have immediately understood why John reacted as he had. And that was why nearly four hours later as he walked out of an Indian restaurant treating himself to good takeaway, it still rankled.

“Oi, sorry mate.” John shook his head as he yielded the door in apology to the man he had just bumped into.

A derisive sniff was heard as the man passed him and nothing else.

“You’re quite welcome you know!” John hissed at the rude man’s back. “It is customary to thank the person who holds a door open for you.”

If the man had heard him, he gave no acknowledgement. John watched the tall slender man walk away. His hands in the pockets of an expensive looking long coat that flared dramatically around him as he moved. The collar of the coat was turned up and framed a head of thick dark curls. Because he was walking away, John only got a hint of chiseled cheek bone. Something about the man’s bearing oozed, not just elite, but upper elite. Even the cologne left in his wake smelled delicious and decidedly _posh_.

 _Christ! Did I just think_ chiseled cheekbones _and_ posh? _About some_ _rude arse of a man trying to look all cool with that popped collar and all. Yeah, time to head home._

John pulled up to a stoplight a block outside of the restaurant. An advert on the side of a building had fireworks in its image. He idly banged out the 1812 Overture on the steering wheel. He was about to turn on the radio when someone blasting classical violin pulled alongside him in a Jaguar.

His Jaguar.

 _Well, the same year and model as mine, anyway_.

Except John’s Jaguar was in Ammonite Grey and the other was in Ultimate Black, the color he almost ordered, but changed his mind wanting something a little lighter.

Then he saw the profile of the other driver and rolled his eyes.

_Just great. It's the posh arse from the restaurant._

John will go to his grave not knowing what compelled him to hit his horn to get the other driver’s attention only to find himself impaled by the coldest pale green eyes he had ever seen under those unruly dark curls. Eyes that in one flick to the street light, then back to him had seemed to pierce through his soul. A dark brow quirked and a sort of smirk appeared, just before the other man’s engine revved was John’s only warning.

John did not think about it.

He hit the accelerator and shot forward first as the light turned green. He was fully prepared to slow down until he saw the black Jaguar coming up fast on him.

 _John Hamish Watson, you are a grown man. A respectable doctor. What in the_ devil _are you doing?_

_Apparently being overtaken by a beta. A BETA?_

_Oh. Hell. And no!_

All that respectable doctor business went out the window as he gunned it.

* * *

The cool evening breeze coming through the open window tickled his skin as Sherlock pulled up to the light. The sky seemed like a deep ocean, with each of the billions of stars shining in its indigo depths. He vaguely noted his car’s twin as he increased the volume on Mozart’s Violin C currently playing on his Spotify. It was lovely.

The night was lovely.

_And then it wasn't._

Sherlock blinked as the horn from the car beside him sounded, ruining the lovely mood. He recognized the alpha from the restaurant who had bumped into him. He vaguely recalled the man mumbled something after he passed, but his thoughts were already on a cold case for Lestrade. He had given the broad chested alpha as much heed he gave any alpha these days, which was none whatsoever.

With a quirked brow, he looked at the man.

_He’s bored._

The alpha’s hands drummed a beat on his steering wheel to music that only his mind can hear, for Sherlock did not hear any music coming from the car.

 _Probably a rock song, going by that beat, or worse pop._ He snorted at that thought.

_Married, but I do not sense a bonding. Beta spouse?_

_Elite from that Jag, but not my at my family's level, I think I would know of him if it were. So he has money, but was not born into it. Strong hands, but somewhat soft. Not a laborer._

Sherlock flicked his eye to the traffic light and slightly revved his engine ready to move once the light changed. He partially smirked as he took in more details in of the man.

_Now who did he piss off in a past life to own such a hideous jumper, let alone wear it in public, in this life?_

The alpha had floored it the millisecond the light turned green.

_And no, he did not just take off like that!_

_You are not worthy of that beauty. Let me show you how it’s done old man._

He could not believe he was racing down streets of London enjoying the feel of his car as she opened up and zoomed past the alpha.

 _Sherlock, you are not a teenager! What do you think you are_ doing _?_

It was as if the saucy minx he sat in egged him on. _Having fun!_

His hand reflectively tightened around the gear shift and shot forward.

 _Well, it_ has _been quite the while since I’ve given you a good throttling, hasn't it, darling? Let's see what you remember._

Sherlock turned a corner sharply and grimaced as the silvered blond alpha followed him. The man was as insane as he, for the alpha clearly enjoyed this just as much. Sherlock spotted the on-ramp for the motorway, yet before he could think to signal himself, his vehicular twin zoomed around him, signaled then headed for the motorway.

_No, that alpha did NOT just give me the forks 1! Who in the hell is he?_

A genuine smile, something that had not occurred in a very long time, graced Sherlock's features at thought of overtaking the alpha on the motorway and at the absolute hissy fit he knew his brother was going to have when word of this reached the man. Something devilish and deep within, that Sherlock would never admit to,  _giggled_. Sherlock did not think twice as he accelerated onto the motorway.

It surely was not the engine that took one glance at the handsome alpha and purred: _The game, sir, is ON._

All to the accompaniment of Johann Sebastian Bach’s Violin Concerto in E Major.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The use of the V sign ("the forks"), with the deliverer’s palm facing them, especially with the inclusion of the upwards swing of the arm at the elbow, is an insulting gesture. It is the UK equivalent of the upward thrust of the middle finger (“flipping the bird”) in the U.S. ^return to paragraph^


	5. Get Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock heard more than saw the initial whoosh as the petrol ignited in the distance.
> 
> “OH SHITE! GET OUT! GET OUT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Nat_olivia!!!! I'm posting days early for you.

John howled with laughter at the beta’s face as he zoomed past him onto the motorway. He was not going to think about the speedometer, or the potential traffic ticket. Or Mary potentially kicking his arse if she finds out. Somehow, she always found out his more egregious misdeeds. That it is mostly from his own mouth notwithstanding.

He and his opponent wove in and out of traffic. One moment he was ahead, the next moment the beta. They nearly collided as each took a sharp curve at a speed that had both men gripping their respective steering wheels tightly and sighing with relief as they came out of it smoothly. It was a blessed miracle John hit the brakes just enough to not deploy the airbags when both were forced to slow down arriving in a stretch of road known to for speed traps only to gun it again when the coast was clear.

They were both forced to decelerate when a multiple vehicle collision on the opposite side capture attention on both sides of the road and slowed everyone to a near crawl.

_Christ! Is that a body?_

He thanked the powers that be it was a grassy medium between the opposing lanes and turned his car towards the accident.

_Jesus what a mess._

Experience had trained John to triage quickly.

From the angle of the landing John knew there was no point in heading for the body he’d seen.

_That person is dead, let me help who I can._

He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement as he noted the tall beta had parked beside him. The beta had taken out his mobile to place the call as he headed for a hysterical woman.

_Good deal with her, get her calm, if she’s not hurt._

He listened for a moment more. The loudest scream was not necessarily the one in the most need of medical attention. If you could scream you could breathe, which was always a step up over…

_There…_

Wet rattling gasps and whimpers. John headed for the small SUV turned on its side.

John easily scaled the small vehicle. It had landed on the passenger side, so the driver was close to him.

 _Male, mid-50s._ He took a sniff. _Alpha._

“Hey, I’m a doctor. Take slow easy breaths, I know it hurts. Give me your name and then try not to talk too much for right now, okay?”

The man nodded.

“Name?” Watson prompted with his best professional smile.

“Matt.”

“Okay Matt, I need to check you, look you over first to see what’s going on with you before there is any attempt at moving you.”

Matt nodded again.

John reached through the open window, but he could not properly feel along the man.  If he opened the door of the car, he knew it would close back on him. He could not hold the door and check the man he had no choice.

“Sorry, I have to do this.”

The driver’s mirror partially hung from the SUV rolling on its sides. John took it off completely before opening the door and wedged it in between the hinges. It was not the most secure hold, but it gave him more room to work.

Watson flipped on the overhead light and quickly unbuttoned Matt’s shirt. He had no choice but to rip the shirt. He reached in and carefully started feeling around the man’s chest and then his shoulder. He kept his expression neutral as he triaged Matt, but he saw the way the man’s chest moved as he tried to breathe.

_Blunt force trauma to the chest. Sounds like a possible punctured lung. Trauma to clavicle. Oh god, his chest is flaili_ _ng 1._

_It’s going to be a world of hurt to get him out of this vehicle._

The only thing that held Matt in the car was the seat belt. Once released, gravity was going to drop him. John did not have enough leverage to get him out of the vehicle, but the seat belt put more pressure on the injured man exacerbating the problem.  John could see the lights in the far-off distance, emergency services were close, but not close enough with the traffic. He could not risk however long it was going to take.

_And why does it smell of petrol?_

“DOCTOR!”

A deep voice yelled, John looked over his shoulder. The beta and another man were running towards him.

“Get you and whomever out of that car. NOW!”

* * *

Sherlock knew he had only one exit before he absolutely had to take his leave from the merry chase.  He had passed his proper exit, two exits ago. He was going to be a half-hour late as it was.

_It's a car accident on the other side of the road people! What is the point of slowing down to watch on this side? I’m assured the sight of someone’s innards on the side of the road will hold such delightful conversation fodder at the dinner table that does wonders for eupepsia._

He realized the collision occurred somewhat recently for there were no signs emergency services coming to the scene.

_Oh! There really is a body!_

Sherlock will go to his grave not knowing what compelled him to follow the other man when he turned his car and headed for the accident, but he did. The two locked eyes in some silent agreement as he pulled alongside the alpha and hopped out of their respective vehicles.

He quickly scanned the area, as he took out his mobile and confirmed that emergency services were called and en-route. It was late in evening so traffic normally would be ligher, but there was traffic. Between the cars passing around them and those in the accident waiting for emergency services there were too many milling about. A man began setting out flares to help cordon off the area. Sherlock went to a screaming woman who otherwise looked fine just to quiet her. Her hysteria could potentially set off others who were mostly shaken by the accident, but not physically damaged. Then he noted the smell of petrol. Her vehicle was not the one leaking. He stood and looked around.

_There._

The motorway, like all roads, was designed with a slight incline to induce precipitation runoff to the sides of the lanes for vehicular safety. Petrol, like all liquids, took the paths of least resistance regardless.  It trailed more toward the center lanes before heeding what man has designed. Sirens for emergency services could finally be heard, but with the traffic it had to crawl through, it could be minutes before it arrived.

A spark caught his attention. One of the road flares set down to direct traffic had a petrol trail heading straight for it. He was too far away to move the flair as was the person who placed it. His eyes reversed followed the trail to its source.

 _The small sports utility vehicle on its side with…Oh! The alpha is a …_.

“You! Come with me!” He pointed to a man who leaned against his dented car, but was otherwise unharmed. Sherlock did not bother to look to see if the man came, he heard by the sounds of running feet behind him that he had.

“DOCTOR!”

The alpha looked over his shoulder at him. Sherlock pointed to the leaking petrol.

“Get you and whomever out of that car. NOW!”

“What are you doing?” The alpha doctor yelled as Sherlock climbed the car.

“I’m climbing in and holding him up, so he does not fall when the belt disengages. You’re an alpha - stronger, faster pull him out then lower him to the man with me. I’ll climb out. And if you believe in a God pray we get out before it the petrol reaches the vehicle. Now pull!” Sherlock had immediately recognized the problem, climbed into the car and was in position by the time he finished speaking.

“Sorry Matt, this is going to hurt.” The doctor looked to Sherlock, “Ready, nurse?”

Sherlock leveled the alpha doctor with a look, but nodded, braced himself for the weight and reached for the buckle. Matt screamed as the doctor grabbed him and jumped. Sherlock barely felt the weight on him before it was lifted.

Sherlock heard more than saw the initial whoosh as the petrol ignited in the too close distance.

“OH SHITE! GET OUT! GET OUT!”

He heard the sheer panic in voice of the man who had ran to the car with him but now ran away in fear. The door had shut when the doctor jumped and had slipped back to avoid being hit by it. Luckily the window was open. Sherlock desperately reached for the frame and pulled himself up. Sherlock had scrambled to the top and saw as the flames raced towards him as his head cleared the opening.

He had just pushed himself fully through the opening, about to leap when the world disintegrated around him in a flash of light and heat and deafness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> **Flail Chest** is a life-threatening medical condition that occurs when a segment of the rib cage breaks due to trauma and becomes detached from the rest of the chest wall. Two of the symptoms of flail chest are chest pain and shortness of breath. It occurs when multiple adjacent ribs are broken in multiple places, separating a segment, so a part of the chest wall moves independently. The flail segment moves in the opposite direction to the rest of the chest wall: because of the ambient pressure in comparison to the pressure inside the lungs, it goes in while the rest of the chest is moving out, and vice versa.  
> ^^return to paragraph^^


	6. Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, hell this is bad!_
> 
>  
> 
> John held his ground, fought the instinct to physically follow the omega as he backed away a little more, but his eyes tracked him nonetheless. 
> 
> _Very bad._

Matt had released one long pain filled scream then went silent as John carried him to a safe enough distance and placed him on the ground. He spun around when he heard the _whoosh_ of the petrol igniting.

Where is he?  
  
The other man with him screamed just as the beta’s head cleared the car.  
  
_He’s not going to make it!_  
  
John _MOVED_.  
  
He ran and propelled his body at the beta. Felt the lick of flames as they went through its tendrils and landed with a hard _whoomph_ on impact.

_Shite!_

He rolled over and shielded the beta’s slim body with his own as something flaming flew overhead. John felt a flush of heat that was not from the burning car.  
  
_Oh?_  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
_No. I don’t have time for this!_  
  
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He spoke more to himself than to the pale eyes which darted around panicked for a moment, then turned hard.  
  
“Get off me! You’re not exactly a lightweight you Neanderthal!” The beta pushed at him.  
  
_Wow, this arse really has an issue with basic manners!_  
  
He rolled off, scrambled to his feet and made his way back to Matt.  
  
John gritted his teeth as he reached the man.  
  
He _knew_.  
  
He knew before he yanked Matt out of the vehicle.  
  
He knew when Matt went silent in his arms.  
  
He knew when he placed him on the ground.  
  
He knew before he fell to his knees beside him again.  
  
He knew before he looked into eyes that no longer looked into his.  
  
_He knew_.  
  
John gritted his teeth and let loose a string of curses.  
  
“Not your fault, doc.”  
  
John shrugged not knowing who spoke as a small crowd gathered. Somewhere a female started crying.  
  
“I am sorry, doctor.” a calm baritone sounded behind him. Without looking John knew it was the beta. The doctor sighed as he closed Matt’s eyes.  
  
_Rest in peace, Matt. I am sorry I could not save you._  
  
“Everyone else okay?” John looked around tiredly as the weight of the day fell on him.  
  
“Yes. More shaken than anything physical. Maybe a couple of sprains.” The beta responded as he crouched beside John,. “And thank you by the way.”  
  
_Well I’ll be damned; the posh boy does have some manners._  
  
John nodded as familiar smells in the fire scented air reached his senses.  
  
_There's another Alpha in the midst._  
  
_And an Omega? Unbonded._  
  
_Oh, shite!_  
  
The beta stood as the other alpha approached. “Are you in need of assistance?”  
  
John smirked as the beta threw every ounce of posh into a voice that sent a shiver down the doctor’s spine as he also stood.  
  
Then it hit him.  
  
_His posh nibs is the unbonded omega _‽__

_Challenging an alpha‽_

_IS HE FUCKING CRAZY _‽_ ‽_  
  
The young alpha, a university student from the looks of him, looked between John and the man the doctor now realized was an unbounded omega with confusion. The omega raised a challenging brow as if daring him.  
  
The young alpha locked eyes with the tall man and then took a step back. The omega had not moved at all, not in the least afraid. In fact, he had subtly shifted to ground himself as if prepared to fight.

 _I'll be damned_.  
  
“I thought… I must be wrong… Never mind.” The young alpha turned and walked away as emergency services finally arrived on the scene.  
  
It took time and experience with many omegas to pick the base scent out. A few centimeters taller than himself, John looked to the tall omega. He knew the height and the attitude were what threw the young alpha off despite his natural omega scent now coming through.  
  
_He does smell good though._

John turned to him and spoke low so only he could hear.  
  
“Did you know: In a life-threatening situation, such as -oh- an explosion, the omega body is a ruthless machine that will do anything it can to protect itself? It’s all part and parcel of the _hurt omega_  pheromones. The scent that they give off when stressed. It’s what dictates the releasing of endorphins and increasing white blood cells. The bigger the threat, the more it tries to compensate quickly. All omegas feel pain, but many have a high tolerance for it because of the hormones protecting them. If the threat is severe enough, the omegas' natural hormones protecting them in an emergency will over ride anything artificially created to counteract it. That often includes artificial hormones and…”  
  
“…And scent blockers.” The omega finished the sentence as he glanced in the direction the young alpha had gone. “I… see.”  
  
A low growl escaped John before he could stop it. He smirked at the slight twitch he saw from the omega because of it.  
  
_Did you like that or did I just scare you?_

John realized then the omega’s hormones weren’t the only ones that had spiked as they went through the fire.

 _Shite_.  
  
“Royal Army Medical Corps?”  
  
“Excuse me?” John shook his head, surprised. “How did you know…?”  
  
“I didn’t know, I observed.” He made a slight movement that John took for a shrug. “You're maybe six centimeters shorter than I, but Alpha was obvious from your bearing and scent. Your haircut, though longish for regulation and the way you carry yourself, says military. The doctor part is obvious. In spite of all the screaming around you.” He glanced at the woman who had been screaming hysterically earlier, but was now calm, “You listened for and found the one person who couldn’t scream, the one who was the most hurt. All doctors learn it eventually, military doctors learn it faster and respond thusly. You’re a successful doctor going by the car. A married man by the ring. Happily married as you just smiled looking at it. Your spouse is either working late or otherwise not home going by the take-a-way you picked up when I saw you earlier. And you’re a man of strong moral fiber.”  
  
“What can you possibly know about my _strong moral fiber_?” John imitated the omega’s voice.  
  
The omega took a step closer to John who quickly took a step back.

 _Don’t push your luck. What is wrong with me?_  
  
“Unlike the young alpha over there you’ve been next to this _ruthless machine_ for several minutes. You say my rising hormones have overridden my scent blockers. Conversely, your hormones have risen as well. I can tell you are fighting instinct by my proximity. That is the Alpha in you responding to instinct in a stressed situation. Yet even with the risk, you won’t move too far from me, to protect me from the other alphas. That is, you the man, not the alpha. Strong moral fiber.” The omega narrowed his eyes as they both picked up a new alpha scent among the rescue workers putting out the car fire.  
  
“That is amazing! Truly amazing.” John took a deep inhale and nearly bared his teeth as a result. He knew the omega saw it when he took a couple of steps away.

“There are two alphas among emergency services. Making it three alphas within your scent range.” John put his fist in his pockets and dug his nails into his palms. The omega quirked a dark brow at him as he noticed the move.

_Okay. Four alphas including me. God, he smells so good. How long has it been since I’ve …? No, stop THAT thought right there!_

They both heard the low growl that had not come from John. The omega's scent was being picked up. John knew he could take on the three alphas, felt the smile about to form in anticipation, then caught himself. 

_That was not helping._

John suspected it was the very last thing the omega wanted, but he was about to be impetuous of something John has seen a few times in his life and that was a few times too many.

_Oh, hell this is bad!_

John held his ground, fought the instinct to physically follow the omega as he backed away a little more, but his eyes tracked him nonetheless. 

_Very bad._

“If you have more scent blockers in your Jag I suggest you get them out now. Or better yet leave before you cause a melee.”

Whatever the omega saw in John's face, it was enough to give pause. 

“And on that note, goodbye Doctor.”  
  
“Goodbye Nurse.”  
  
The cool verdigris eyes leveled him with another sharp look, before he carefully made his way to his car and drove off. John sighed in relief as the omega's scent slowly dissipated.   
  
It was sometime later as John gave his report to the police, and purposely labelled the man a beta, that the enormity of it hit him.  
  
He was an omega who was brilliant. Cultured. Stood toe to toe with and backed down an alpha. And absolutely no one there got his name.  
  
_Who the hell was he‽_


	7. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft was not in the least surprised when a beaker met its untimely demise against a kitchen wall a moment later. He looked up as something viscous and bubbling slid down the wall. Sherlock closed his eyes and grunted in frustration as he rose to clean the mess. There was nothing else the elder Holmes brother could say or do that would comfort his younger brother.

“Care to explain this?”

Mycroft placed his laptop on the table and turned it for Sherlock to see as soon as he walked into the kitchen. 

“Looks like news footage of a car accident on a motorway. Pretty obvious brother, such questioning is beneath you.” Sherlock barely gave it a curiosity flick of an eye before peering down the microscope again.

“Oh excellent. Now try this.” Mycroft narrowed his eyes as he pressed a few keys on the laptop and brought up another video.

Sherlock pretended to ignore it, but he could see it peripherally. It was a patch job between various mass surveillance cameras that had tracked his race with the alpha on the city streets. They had covered a good bit of road in a short amount of time. He could not help the slight twitch of his lip as he saw how they had taken that curve where they nearly collided and then smoothly came out of it.

_He handled his car well, but I am better._

“I misbehaved. Your minions caught it on camera and tattled. Sounds like another most  _exhilarating_  day at spy camp.” Sherlock looked up at last as he realized Mycroft was not going to go away by simply ignoring him.

“Misbeha---” Mycroft bit off the word so hard his teeth audibly clicked. “Are you aware you and that doctor drove in excess of 155kmphs at several points in your little race?”

“Oh, so  _that_  is what those numbers on the dashboard were about! Thank you for the elucidation.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Now I am truly impressed with how well she handled herself, especially in dodging the speed traps.”

Sherlock noticed a similarly named icon on the laptop’s desktop.

_What’s that?_

Sherlock did not bother to hide the smirk as he took the laptop to his chair in the sitting room. He pretended to watch the footage again, but opened the other file instead and found exactly three seconds of himself smiling. The buildings were almost a blur, but he knew exactly which intersection it was taken. He knew it was right after the doctor had given him the forks, before he followed the alpha onto the motorway.

Mycroft had not included this section of footage in the collage he was shown. Sherlock knew it was in part not to encourage what he himself knew was incredibly fool hardy behavior on his part. He also knew Mycroft kept it because Sherlock was smiling.

_I am genuinely smiling. Smiling! I sometimes wonder if I were capable anymore._

Even he could barely believe the evidence of that moment of joy captured before him. Only case work has come close to giving him that type of exhilaration.

_I guess it’s good to know people don’t have to die horribly for me to feel that good again._

Sherlock had a decided smirk on his face as he pretended not to notice his how brother watched agitated while he slipped past the laptop’s security and sent a copy of both files to himself.

And he could see when Mycroft made the decision to wipe the smirk off his face as he handed the laptop back to him and returned to the microscope.

“Have you at least looked at the files I sent?”

_And there it goes. Oh, Brother mine. Me? Second Mate?_

“Why would I?” He knew he was being churlish, just for the sake of being churlish, he could not stop himself.

“Sherlock, you have five weeks. Mummy said there were fifteen overt offers this past week.” Mycroft sat down opposite him.

That the fastidious man came anywhere near the kitchen table while he experimented spoke volumes. That he did so while two different burners were on and beakers bubbled gave gravitas to the seriousness with which the elder brother held the situation.

Sherlock’s grip tightened on the knobs of the microscope as he thought of the choices Mycroft had presented him. The first set was so unsuitable he could not be bothered to personalize them, referring to them solely by location.

“Mycroft, the one from Chelsea clearly fell in love with a beta man, who unlike beta females can take it. Beta women are not structurally made for an alpha  _demands._ My potential role in that dynamic is obvious. Kensington wants a nanny for the litter they already have and West Brompton desires more children. As for the wife of Knightsbridge – really Mycroft? I could not possibly be in her presence long enough to fake my way through the ceremony, let alone through a bonding.” Sherlock gave a visible shudder of revulsion.

_I would spare you the potential fratricide before I married any of them._

Still, Sherlock simply could not imagine himself as a second to anything, let alone a Second Mate of an Alpha who was already bonded, but could not have children. Yes, he knew if a match was suitable he would be welcomed into that family. Mycroft would ensure the comfort and protection of any family he chose. There would be no pretense of love, he could not do that with Victor’s memory still so fresh within him. It was hard enough living as third-class citizen because of being born a male omega. His place as Second Mate would be even lower than that.

Still, he knew it was better than the alternative. 

* * *

Mycroft knew each of the choices were going to be problematic for Sherlock. It was nothing compared to the search of finding someone who would even consider the enigmatic omega as a possibility. Most alphas, desirous of a traditional omega relationship, rejected Sherlock outright.

Alphas and Omegas have dwindled over the centuries. Where history had them as much as 23%, they are now less than 12% of the global population. These numbers are skewed for they only account for the populations where such records are kept and maintained. Those numbers break down to roughly 60% Alpha males, 30% Omega females, 7% Alpha females. Omega males, who are surprisingly more fertile and are more successful at carrying multiples to full term than omega females, only made up 3%.

Thus, it was a small pool of eligible choices to begin with, made more so by his brother's intellect and that they were of an elite family. Eliminating the money grabbers who solicited him and Mummy for his brother's hand alone was tedious. Unfortunately, that very elitist status is what made it impossible for him to marry a beta. A beta male cannot bond an omega. Sherlock as an Elite was desirable, even by those who had no clue what they would be getting with him. Sherlock needed the extra protection the pheromones of an alpha scent running through his blood can provide.

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to his younger brother complaints of the matches presented. At this point he was just grateful his brother had deigned to look at the files. It meant he was finally feeling the pressure enough to do something about it. Not that Sherlock was in any way making the situation easier. Heaven, forbid that Mycroft, as the Alpha Familiar and reigning alpha of their branch of the family line, be given the remotest consideration. His brother was still fertile, still young enough to have pups. Maybe, just maybe Sherlock could see his way around to such.

He glanced at his brother and most sincerely knew it would never happen.

The visual of a domesticated Sherlock was both heartwarming and horrific.

_Sherlock and his pups in matching baby carriers or a pram, bent over a gory crime scene._

Apparently, his brother's mind had traveled similar pathways as the two looked to each other and grimaced. 

“No promises Brother Mine, I will agree to interview with Oskar Alperin, Leon Samuel Marks and Franklyn Dennison. IN-TER-VIEW ON-LY.”

Mycroft looked up surprised and wisely kept his mouth shut. Sherlock continued to peer down the microscope as though nothing unusual was said, but he could see the set of the set of the younger Holmes' shoulders, the tension in his jaw. Sherlock was not happy about even that little of a concession.

_He is backed into a corner. He knows he has no choice._

“I will set up the interviews for the end of the week.”

Only the slightest ruffling of the curls gave indication to the nod. Mycroft stood and gathered his things.

It was so unfair that such a brilliant mind was in a body society deemed so less than, when Sherlock was much more, so much more.

_You must suffer the demands of your own heart, as well as the pressures that come from the world around you as an omega male._

_And regardless of the strength of your will or your formidable mind, it is not easy._

“I am sorry, Brother Mine.”

“I know.”

Mycroft was not in the least surprised when a beaker met its untimely demise against a kitchen wall a moment later. He looked over as something viscous and bubbling slid down the wall. Sherlock closed his eyes and grunted in frustration as he rose to clean the mess. There was nothing else the elder Holmes brother could say or do that would comfort his younger brother.

He let himself out.


	8. True Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary's home.  
> Sherlock learns a few things about Dennison and it's a bit not good.  
> Enter Doctor Watson, stage left.

After filing his reports after the accident John had driven up home, chastising himself for the light left on in the kitchen. He had just closed the door behind him when the faint scent of Clair de Lune filled his nostrils and had him longing for his wife. He remembered he held the decanter in his hands this morning,  _well yesterday morning_ , released a spritz in the air missing her. The now faint scent had wafted down through the day and greeted him.

_Two more days, Mare._

That was all he had left to wait until she was home.

_Two more days and a wake-up._

He rolled his left shoulder as it twinged in a dull ache. Most days he can all but forget the scarred mass that nearly ended his career and his life. Long days tended to remind the alpha of its presence and the day had been a long one. An early morning surgery, two consults, the whole fiasco with the eleven-year-old male omega – Ryan – Forrester and the arse Dennison.

He stood by the closet and let his jacket slide from his shoulders to the floor. It was going to have to go to the cleaners, he could not hang it up with blood on it. The car crash on the motorway and not being able to save Matt. The airbag had not deployed. John had felt two curvatures when he triaged. Matt’s chest had hit the steering wheel hard and more than once. He had lived that long because he was an alpha, he had a snowball’s in hell chance, but it was still a chance.

Until the petrol ignited and there were three lives at risk.

If the sudden evacuation hadn’t killed Matt, the fire surely would have. John sighed. He was an Army doctor, he has saved so many more than he has lost, but he lost enough and some days he really felt the losses.

_This was one._

He was tired, his hormones were still elevated and he missed his wife like crazy at that moment, but he was home.

_Try it again tomorrow doctor._

His hands were at the hem of his jumper, about to pull it over his head when he sensed more that heard the movement. He was tired to have not noticed another presence. Someone smaller than he. By the time it fully registered the person was spun, grabbed it by the arm and thrown to the floor.

“Oooopmh! I knew that was a bad idea, but I couldn’t resist trying.”  A familiar voice purred. Surprised, then amused dancing blue eyes stared up at him from the floor.

_Mary‽_

“Mary!”

“Hello Darling. This not exactly how I expected to be manhand---”

The rest was cut off by his kiss.

He had only seen her once these past nine months and that was nearly six months ago. His exhaustion vanished as he yanked his wife from the floor, shoved her against the closet door and kissed her. If the impact hurt she gave no indication as she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

_She’s here! She’s here! Oh God yes!_

Teeth skimmed against each other. Tongues licked, wrapped, shoved in need.

The jumper was the first casualty.

He needed her.

Her fingers immediately grasped the button placket on his shirt and  _ripped_.

She needed him.

Her tee shirt became shredded dust cloth within seconds of his hands’ grasp.

He needed her _now_.

Their clothing became collateral damage to be found sometime later.

He knew it was his elevated hormones. His rut was early.

_Careful, she’s a beta, don’t knot her._

She wrapped her legs around him. Her naked heat and wetness rutted against his now naked hardness.

“John, baby, PLEASE!” Mary begged as her nails raked across his back.

He growled. She groaned.

It was not soft. It was not tender.

The thought to be careful history.

* * *

The shooting pain in John’s left shoulder woke him.

_Sleeping on the floor will do that._

He groaned, his eyes slowly opened to the blond hair in front of him tickling his face and grinned at the warm body spooned against him.

_Mary’s home!_

A second later a new pain shot through the shoulder as he sat up panicked.

_Oh God, Mary!_

The doctor had seen first-hand the damage done to a beta female who had been knotted by an alpha male. It had been a long time since he lost himself in a rut. He barely remembered last night, but the tattered evidence lay strewn on the floor around them. He turned her carefully and checked her.

_No hemorrhaging. Oh, Christ, thank you!_

“Owwwww, bloody hell, why do I feel like I was hit by a bloody truck?” Mary stirred from the movement, slowly rising on her elbows, she smiled as her blue eyes focused on him, “Oh, I was…”

“You okay? I thought I might have lost it last night.” He kissed her forehead.

“Appropriately, sore.” She stretched and looked around with a pained groan, “Really John! I can’t believe we didn’t even make it out of the front hall this time.”

“Hey, it’s been nearly six months and I’m rutting early. You jump me in the front hall, you get jumped in the front hall.” John teased, “Thought you would have learned that lovely lesson after the garage.”

“Oh, Christ, concrete burns!” Mary flinched and they both shuddered at the memory. To say that morning after was a bit not good, was an understatement.

John stood and offered her a hand.

“Still, we have to get better at this. Can’t be doing this with pups about.” She took the offered hand and stood.

John was in mid squat to pick up their torn clothing and froze.

_What? WHAT‽_

“No.”

They had not talked about having children in two years. They both had wanted children before they learned she was infertile. The shock of that had been brutal. They discussed it, but she was adamant in not adopting. If she could not have them, she did not want them. She was equally adamant in not using a surrogate or one from a breeder. A beta surrogate could not guarantee an alpha or omega child, something he direly wanted considering their numbers. An elite breeder would guarantee an alpha or omega child, but he could not separate a child from its mother, regardless of primary or secondary gender ever. While a beta female can take advantage of modern medicine for impregnation, omegas can only conceive during heat and direct contact. He understood the purpose elite breeders served in the idyll put to the public, but neither he nor Mary could stomach - let alone support the practice in its back-alley reality. John also was not a fan of having to actually _breed_ with a strange omega.

John had resigned himself to being childless. Spoiling his nieces and nephews through his beta older sister Harriet, who finally got off the sauce a few years back and got her act together. "Uncle Johnny" had accepted that would be as close as he got to parenthood.

“John, we could Second Mate.” Mary broached the subject again a couple of days later having dinner in one of their favorite restaurants. The porterhouse had been huge, bloody and delicious. While some omegas were, no alpha was a vegetarian. An alpha's need for meat to stay physically balanced was almost a dead give-a-way to their identity at restaurants. Even if they had not scented each other, he and another alpha a table over exchanged carnivorous grins of understanding when the woman tore into her equally rare steak after having seen John's. Now he and Mary waited for desert.

“Mary, I can’t do stupid.” John shook his head, “You know most omegas rarely get through KS3. Very few reach A Levels and few enter, let alone finish uni. The ones that have managed…”

He stopped as a slightly familiar scent wafted to him. Something really sweet, but with a bit of a bite. It tugged at the outer fringes of his memory, but he could not quite place it. He shook his head and continued, “The ones that have managed to obtain education either through a benevolent alpha or their own devices are generally well past their prime when they become unbonded.”

“There has to be at least one omega with reasonable intelligence who would match with us.” Mary sighed as her apple tart was placed on the table.

“If there is I’ve yet to meet them.” John half-shrugged. “The sole exception being that unbonded omega who was at the accident and even if I knew who he was, I am pretty damn sure he’s spoken for.”

He blinked as a generous slice of key lime pie was placed in front of him, made him smile. The delicious sweet scent wafting to him.

_Still not quite right. What am I reminded of?_

Luminous eyes, and a posh cultured voice, with a serious attitude sprung to mind.

_Definitely not._

* * *

“I need help!”

Sherlock carried an unconscious Bobby into A&E in his arms.

One nurse looked up and saw the bundle in the man's arms, blinked at the glaring disconnect between the two but came running, calling for an attending doctor and pulling the nearest empty gurney.

“What do we have?”

“Sixteen-year-old male, runaway. Name is Stephen Robert Bailey, goes by Bobby. Stays by the Arches. He was attacked yesterday, found by friends today who are aware of our acquaintance, called me when he did not want to come in. I was trying to convince him to come when he passed out. It was faster to bring him in than wait for an ambulance. I believe he was sexually assaulted though he has not admitted to it. I want a kit done.” Sherlock responded as he placed Bobby on the gurney.

“Holy hell! Was he supposed to survive this?” a doctor, McWilliams by the name tag, came over and started checking Bobby's vitals.

Sherlock knew it for the rhetorical question it was and did not answer the doctor as he looked at the battered body of the boy, though he did answer for himself.

_No, he was not supposed to survive this. And someone will answer for this._

Bobby, a part of Sherlock's homeless network, had looked into a lead on a string of attacks on young homeless children. An adult living on the streets or in shelters understand they run the risk of being attacked at some point, or become one of the vanished. Hateful as it is, a homeless child is not always exempt from such.

This was different. Six males and four females over the last four months. The youngest, aged eight. The eldest twenty-four. And now Bobby at sixteen. All had been battered and sexually assaulted. Those were the ones found. Sherlock suspected there were at least four more that he himself had not seen about of late. There was no way to know the true numbers. Before he went unconscious, Bobby had given him information no one else had. He wanted so badly to say it was a fluke or even a surprise, but he knew it was not. The ramifications of that information were horrific.

He was not surprised when Greg Lestrade appeared at his side nearly an hour later.

“How is he?”

“In surgery. Rectal tears. Internal bleeding. Two minor fractures in his left tibia. Broken humerus. They left him for dead. He escaped. It was sheer adrenaline and courage that kept him going.” Sherlock stared ahead watching as people milled in and out.

Sherlock looked up as a couple of men conversing stopped just outside of the waiting area.

“…He kept that close to the vest.”

_Beta. Mid 20s. Intern. Just started his shift._

“Please. It's not him, it's the wife.”

_Beta. Early 40s. Surgeon. Position of authority. Married._

“Heaven forbid Simone Schaeffer-Dennison ruin that figure of hers! Somehow the cheeky woman got that in as a pre-nup stipulation. He can marry her and have relations, but if he wants pups he has to find a male omega as Second Mate. She knows her husband is a cheating bastard, as long as he’s somewhat discreet she doesn’t care.” The elder doctor huffed.

Sherlocked blinked. Simone Schaeffer-Dennison is the wife of Franklyn Dennison, the alpha he is scheduled to interview with tomorrow. He had read in Mycroft’s file she was vain, a social climber, but “not entirely stupid”.

_I’m beginning to think you left a few things out to make him more palatable, Brother Mine._

“Maybe she figures if Dr. Dennison gets a male omega, they both can have their fun. After all, as I understand it, it’s not cheating if she fucks an omega that’s a Second Mate, right? After all, what else is an omega for? Especially a male. I hear they get like nymphos. Will likely take them both. When is going to happen?” came the input from the intern.

Knowing Greg heard the doctors also, Sherlock kept his face neutral as he texted his brother.

Mycroft your vetting method is seriously lacking if Dennison was among your *better* choices for me. Cancel his interview, NOW. Will explain later. - SH

He knew the exact moment Greg realized the two doctors gossiped about him when the DI not so quietly swore and looked away from him. Greg grasped his mobile tight, the knuckles going white in the stress.

“Well we’ll know by Monday. Apparently, Franklyn found himself a rich one. The omega’s family come from money. He’s interviewing with the omega and his family tomorrow.” The senior doctor spoke again. “He says the family spoiled the omega. They let him run around like he’s a cop or some silly nonsense. Franklyn said he’ll stop that first thing.”

Sherlock immediately grabbed Greg’s wrist and shook his head to still him as he started to stand. Lestrade looked downright apoplectic. It made Sherlock feel a little better to know Lestrade was equally furious, but he was here for Bobby and he did not need a savior.

“Oh, there you are Forrest, gossiping again?” a familiar voice is heard. Sherlock internally groaned.

_Oh, you have got to be kidding!_

“Oh John, hey. Have you met, Hank Scottsman? One of our new interns." the beta doctor addressed the newcomer. “He's a transfer from the States. Started last week while you were… away.”

Sherlock caught the pause and knew the beta doctor just stopped himself from saying something untoward.

“Hank, is it?” John held out a hand and shook with the intern who nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don't call me sir, I no longer serve the Army.” John joked.

“No sir, I mean…” the intern gritted his teeth. “Sorry sir, I mean Doctor Watson.”

Sherlock shook his head.

_American Southerner. East coast._

“Oh heavens, you're from the American South, aren't you?” John asked, “It's going to take weeks to break you out of that, isn't it? John Watson, Surgeon, General Care Provider, ABO."

_So that’s his name._

Sherlock leaned back in his seat and observed the three doctors.

“Oh, you're the other one.”

“The other one?” John asked slowly as he looked at Forrest.

Yes, s… doctor.” Hank nodded “Dr. Dennison said if I wanted to know anything about ABO dynamics to ask the li… oh heck.” Hank turned red.

Sherlock watched as John shook his head slowly. Whatever the intern cut off was clearly something the alpha doctor had heard before and he was not happy about it.

“I don't know everything, but I am the closest thing this hospital has to someone knowledgeable.” John shook his head.

“Watson is being modest. He saved a newly expressed omega male's broken arm a few weeks back, when the rest of us were too chicken to touch him and wanted to amputate.” Forrest clearly felt a sense of pride in announcing that. “The child is going through some intense PE right now, but he gets to keep his arm.”

“Was that the little blond kid with the Monteggia fracture? I saw him yesterday. You wanted to amputate a kid? Because he's Omega? That don’t sound right.” Hank frowned.

Sherlock’s brow quirked at the look exchanged between Forrest and Watson.

_Oh, there’s a story behind that look. One that Doctor Watson clearly has the upper hand in._

“You haven’t been exposed to many omegas, have you?” Watson asked.

“Just from the elective studies I took. I think a female one was in my class passing as a beta, but she was smart and I liked her enough to not get in her business.” Hank admitted. “I’ll admit what I know personally is mostly rumors.”

“Speaking of rumors. I hear you and Mary are looking for a…”

“Dr. Forrest do you remember what happened to Dennison when he spoke my wife’s name out of turn?” John interrupted with a smile.

It was not a pleasant one.

“Damn.” Greg whistled at the expression on the alpha doctor’s face. Whatever Forrest was about to say died right there.

“Mr. Holmes? Sherlock Holmes.” Dr. McWilliams, who had gone into surgery with Bobby emerged.

“Damn.” Sherlock stood, saw the McWilliams' face and knew.

“Bobby did not make it.” It was not a question from Greg.

Sherlock shook his head anyway in response.

“They killed him. Greg. They beat him. Raped him. Killed him!”

“Mr. Holmes, I am sorry for…” McWilliams started to speak.

“Shut up. Just shut up!” Sherlock snarled.

“Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes? _That’s_ Dennison’s Second – ow!”

He vaguely noted it was Forrest who spoke and it was Watson who elbowed him to silence.

“You’re not sorry. Not one of you are sorry! It’s just words you are taught to mimic. You didn’t know him!” Sherlock spat at the doctor in front of him.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock spun on Greg “Why is everyone calling MY name?”

He did not know he was about to punch the glass of the vending machine until a firm grasp prevented him from doing just that.

“You don’t want to do that. The amount of stitches it could potentially take to repair that is not worth it. I recognize DI Lestrade over there from the papers and telly. Save that punch for when he captures those responsible. I think he might let you get one in, ya?”

Sherlock found himself staring into warm blue eyes that coaxed, but did not mock him. It was a solid grip that did not let go until Watson felt that Sherlock had relaxed.

_Idiot!_

Sherlock shattered the glass.

“Shite!” Watson turned from the falling glass surprised. McWilliams fled the waiting room for the safety of the ER.

Sherlock pulled his fist back and shook off the glass shards from the arm of his coat. He barely had a scratch.

_That actually felt good._

“Sherlock!” Greg pulled the consulting detective away from the vending machines, “We’re going to get the ones that did this. Bobby gave you information, right? He left clues. If anyone can figure it out it’s you. You find them and we’ll arrest them. First, we have to handle Bobby’s affairs. Do you know how to reach his next of kin?”

Sherlock took a deep, steadying breath and then nodded. He threw himself into a chair and grabbed his hair in frustration.

_First Bobby, then Bobby’s killers._

“ _He’s_ the one Dennison is going to mate?” Hank turned to Forrest in honest query. “I thought omegas...”

“I am NOT going to be Franklyn Dennison’s Second Mate!” Sherlock yelled at the intern as he rose from the chair. Lestrade grabbed him before he could stalk towards the young doctor. Sherlock snatched his arm from Greg as another voice entered.

“And why the hell not?”

Doctor Franklyn Dennison, every square inch the alpha, emblazoned for all to see, walked into the waiting room.

“I hear the clock’s ticking. Not like you’ve got much choices, do you?”

“Franklyn…” Watson’s voice held an odd note of warning as he kept his eyes on Sherlock.

“Please! What’s an omega going to do to me?” Dennison snorted in derision. He looked Sherlock up and down as one would look at a lobster in a tank to choose for dinner.

Sherlock bristled.

_How dare you!_

“Don’t…” Watson tried to warn Dennison again.

“He’s an unbonded omega with only a few weeks left of freedom. You know the rules.” Dennison flexed as he started to approach Sherlock.

“You’re either going to be my bitch or _everyone’s_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _KS3_ in the UK is equivalent to the first year of junior high/middle school in US. _A Levels_ is equivalent to high school.


	9. What's Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unbonded omega attacked an Alpha of good standing. 
> 
> Not even Mycroft can get him out of this one. 
> 
> Sherlock felt the weight of it all as it fell heavily on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to again thank each an every one of you who commented last chapter. Yes, I expecting that closing line to get a few reactions, seriously a few reactions. I have to say the blood lust that poured forth from you wonderful readers was heart warming and simply delightful! 
> 
> Thank you!!!

“You’ve been unbonded too long, you need to be reminded of an omega’s proper place.”

There was a dozen or so people in the waiting room.

That was a dozen or so people who either witnessed it in progress or gleaned it immediately after the fact.

Sherlock noted Alpha John Watson was literally the only person who saw it coming and stepped back as Dennison started to close in him.

Sherlock saw the threat as it approached him.

Dennison had a good 10 centimeters and 20 kilos over him, on top of being Alpha.

_You've got one shot - make it count._

Sherlock flicked his eyes over the approaching Alpha and barely gave it thought as he picked up the plastic chair he had sat in and swung it with all his might at Franklyn Dennison’s head.

All of the dozen or so people heard the chair connect.

Most saw when Dennison dropped like a rock to the floor.

Only John’s quick thinking saved Dennison, from what would have assuredly been one cracked head on the tiled floor, as he rushed forward to catch the man, but looked to Sherlock stunned.

A pall had come over the waiting room where only Sherlock’s labored breathing could be heard as he reigned in the fury that over took him.

Sherlock then placed the chair exactly from where he retrieved it, sat and crossed his leg ankle over knee, his face once again placid. The room that had gone silent for a brief moment burst into sound as everyone reacted. He heard Forrest and Scottsman as they rushed to Dennison’s aid. He became very cognizant of Watson's scent as the doctor looked to him and subtly sniffed the air.

 _Scent blockers failed to the_ ruthless machine _, again._

Sherlock put his head in his hands.

An unbonded omega attacked an Alpha of good standing.

_Oh, you’ve done it now Holmes. I cannot claim being in heat anymore to use that as a possible reason._

_Word of this will get out and no Alpha will take me as Second Mate, when it does._

Dennison had one thing right, he had to be belong to someone or he was headed to the breeder camp where anyone whether alpha, beta or even another omega male can use him.

Not even Mycroft can get him out of this.

Sherlock felt the weight of it all as it fell heavily on him.

“Christ Sherlock! Christ!” Greg looked from Dennison to Sherlock. Greg knelt before the omega utterly helpless as he ran his hand through his own silver spiked hair. “I have no idea what to do. I can’t….”

_Yes, Greg I have really fucked this up right._

“You have to do your job Lestrade and arrest me.” Sherlock whispered between the fingers that held his face, “Too many witnesses.”

“No.” The DI shook his head in abject refusal.

“You have to Lestrade. Don’t risk your job over this. Not over me.”

“An unbonded omega in waiting has the right to self-defense when being threatened by another Alpha, even when in the presence of his future Alpha bond mate.” A calm voice spoke directly behind him. “Dennison should not have approached him thusly. I’ll forgive him the threat as Sherlock and I have yet to post the banns. No one knew.”

Sherlock froze in place, his crystalline eyes as wide as he felt a warm hand tentatively touch his head and then rest there proprietarily. Sherlock’s mind raced. Only Lestrade’s equally gobsmacked expression told the detective he had heard correctly.

_Post banns? Banns are sent to announce Alpha and Omega marriages, including those of Second Mates._

Greg caught on quickly and scrambled out of the way. His spot was taken by Doctor John Watson who squatted in front of Sherlock and inhaled.

“What are you doing‽” Sherlock whispered harshly as he stared incredulously at the man. “And get your hand off me!”

“Saving your life, and hopefully not ruining mine.” Watson answered in kind as he took his hand from Sherlock’s head. “By the way, you’re bleeding, idiot.”

_Did he just call me an idiot?_

Sherlock looked the thin trail of blood running down the back of his hand staining his cuff.

_What? Oh._

_I just had to punch the glass._

“You just had to punch the glass.” The doctor sighed and took the cut hand in his to examine it. “Minor lacerations. A butterfly is fine for this. Dr. Forrest? Can you please popover and get me some gauze, alcohol pads and a couple of butterflies?”

“Sure John.”

Sherlock noted the elder doctor did not so much as blink as he left Dennison with the intern to do Watson’s bidding.

_Is it because Watson is an Alpha or because Forrest is weak?_

_Both. Definitely both._

“I suspect you’ll want to tend to yourself. Looks like you have some experience in it.” Watson acknowledged the minor scars already collected before he released Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock hung the hand over his knee, letting the blood trail reverse directions to the floor. “You know, I’ve wanted to do that to him for years. I’m not sure I appreciate an omega got to clock him before me.”

Sherlock looked at the doctor whose lips were trying, but failing not to smile. He couldn’t help himself as snorted with mirth. “Um - not sorry?” The two men burst into giggles.

“I don’t believe you two!” Lestrade hissed between gritted teeth. He pinched the bridge of his nose and just shook his head at the two of them.

“He’s right, we can’t laugh! This is serious!” Watson admonished while they continued to snigger. The mirth died quick when John’s face turned murderous as he suddenly stood. Without looking Sherlock knew Dennison was on his feet. He stood as well, his eyes shifting between the two alphas.

“What the fuck? How do you even know him, John?” Dennison glared at his colleague, a definite contusion forming along the side of his face where the chair had made contact. He addressed his fellow alpha doctor, but stared daggers at Sherlock.

Watson had just publicly claimed him, Dennison had no business looking at him like that. Watson let loose a low growl of warning. A fissure of something unnamed shot through Sherlock, but he held his ground. Lestrade took a noticeable step back.

“How I know him is none of your business.” Watson answered calmly. Sherlock knew the alpha beside him was anything, but. John's scent had spiked in droves, the low warning alpha rumble underlayed his voice. If the two doctors had a friendly rivalry, it was no longer so. John Watson had not lied when he claimed he has wanted to hit Dennison for years. He clearly itched for a chance now.

_Let me see if I can give the good doctor one._

“He does not care how we met, John. He thinks you’re attempting to poach something that is his, namely me. He is completely forgetting he and I had yet to interview. In fact, Dennison, if you check I am sure you will see that my brother has likely already attempted to contact you in cancellation of said interview. Therefore, in spite of your grossly premature boasts to town and sundry otherwise, I was never _yours_ and I never will be. Besides you’re just mad that you had your clock cleaned by an _omega_.” Sherlock said the last of it in singsong.

A barely muffled snicker came from Forrest as he returned. Dennison made a subtle move.

John made a less subtle counter move as he stood alongside Sherlock and smirked “ _My_ omega.”

It took everything Sherlock had not to bristle at that. Victor was the first person to call him such and until a little over a year ago he had thought Victor would be the last. He would not have had much time to bristle regardless as Dennison charged Watson.

Sherlock barely saw Watson move before Dennison was down again. He was not unconscious, but splayed out with a hand to his chest as he wheezed having trouble breathing.

_Solar plexus. One shot. Good hit!_

Sherlock looked from Watson to Dennison to a gaped jaw Lestrade and back to Watson.

“Former military, remember?” Watson smiled tightly to Dennison. It was not a pleasant thing.

“You were a doctor!” Forrest shoved the items Watson had asked for into John’s hands before he was again at Dennison’s side until the downed alpha pushed him away.

“Why does everyone choose to forget I was also a combat soldier for three years in Afghanistan, a veteran of Kandahar, Helmand, and Bart’s bloody Hospital? It may have been a few years since then, but I guarantee the next threatening move you make towards me or Sherlock will end with something on you being broken - badly. _Stand down._ ” Watson said those last two words with such authority, Sherlock knew the doctor had held a position of command when he had served and absolutely expected to be heeded. Sherlock did not notice that he held himself a little straighter as he stood beside Watson.

Dennison who still remembered the feel of Watson’s fingers in his neck wisely stayed where he was. The consulting detective did not bother to hide his sneer as he looked at the downed alpha,

 _Alpha:_ _Weak._

“We are colleagues and still friends, I hope. I will not mark you, as is my right, but Franklyn, first my wife and now Sherlock. You seem to want to bring out the necessary physical in me of late. Word of advice: do _not_ make the necessary occur again.” Watson finished. He turned to Sherlock his eyes going to the vacated chair and back to Sherlock in a clear unspoken command to sit.

_Alpha: Strong._

Sherlock blinked at the thought. _Where did that come from?_

“Detective Inspector Lestrade, once your business here is done, can you see to it that Sherlock gets home? I’m still on shift and have a few patients I need to see.” Watson glanced to Lestrade who simply nodded.

Watson turned to Sherlock and lowered his voice for only him to hear “You’re going to be okay?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the doctor. He could not speak as his eyes scanned the alpha in front of him. He could not read the myriad of emotions behind those blue eyes.

The past few minutes, the past few weeks had him in an emotional turmoil with which he was not accustomed to dealing with. He found himself in a situation he is rarely in – completely befuddled.

“Look, I don’t know what is going on.” Watson spoke as he pulled Sherlock to sit and then tended to the omega’s cuts, “Well I do know some of it, but with what you just did? It’s going to be a match between Dennison’s vanity versus his desire for retribution. He and I have tussled before and had a pint after. Granted not anything physical, this is different, but I’m good. Are you going to be okay?”

“I appreciate the rescue, doctor, but I brought this on myself. I will deal with it by myself.”

“Deal with it? Deal with it? You are brilliant for any human, not just an omega. You can’t…” Watson shuddered, his voice strained as he tried to express his dismay and keep it low as Forrest guided Dennison out. Hank Scottsman gave John and Sherlock a glance before he followed the other two. The immediate excitement over, the others in the waiting area returned to whatever they were doing. “Are you mad‽”

“Perhaps. But one could ask the same of you publicly claiming an unbonded omega. At least you can retract your words without fear. I am still on a time line and I intend to make good use of it. Excuse me, I must contact Bobby’s next of kin. Thank you again, but I will not hold you to your hasty words. Good day Doctor Watson.” Sherlock said with considerable more nonchalance than he felt as he walked away with Lestrade.

* * *

“Sherlock what the hell are you going to do?” Greg pulled up to 221B Baker Street.

“Find Bobby’s killers and follow up on the homeless killings of course.” Sherlock cut his eyes Greg.

“Don’t play coy with me. You don’t have the time for it, dammit!” Greg slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

Sherlock cocked brow at him. He knew Greg was worried for him, but he had no answer. At least not one Lestrade would want to hear.

“I’m sorry. If I’m upset I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” He sighed, “You know I would marry you if I could, to spare you this. It’s so unfair. You know that.”

“I do know that, Greg. And thank you.” Sherlock sighed in turn.

“Alas, the archaic laws that govern alphas and omegas continue to run on the premise that all omegas are simpering nymphomaniacs, as that new intern also believes, will not allow it. For only alpha can save them from themselves, especially unbonded omegas like myself who have known the _reinforcing pleasures_ , yes that is a verbatim quote, of bonding. Apparently, we are even more susceptible to having loose morals in our heats that only the controlled environment of a breeding camp or the _steadying presence_ of an alpha and only an alpha can assure us as Second Mates. _It is for the greater good_.” It was one of the rare times Sherlock had not even tried to hide the bitterness in his voice as he looked out the window and watched the passersby.

Sherlock really did know.

He knew Greg would marry him and never ask a thing of him. They would have been like flatmates, except they would have lived apart. A beta male can and will bite, it will be a physical mark easily seen, but beta cannot inject their hormones into their omega’s bodies and scent mark them in the way most other alpha will instinctually recognize and respect.

_What the hell am I going to do? I wish I had an easy answer, Lestrade._

After seeing Dennison, he no longer trusted Mycroft’s judgement in finding him a suitable match.

_If all else fails I still have access to my emergency stash. It will be my final list to Mycroft._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who may not remember or do not know _the list_ to which Sherlock refers, it is best explained here:
> 
>  
> 
> _MYCROFT (angrily): Stop this. Just stop it. Did you make a list?_  
>  _SHERLOCK: Of what?_  
>  _MYCROFT: Everything, Sherlock. Everything you’ve taken._  
>  _(Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns his head away.)_  
>  _JOHN: No, it’s not that. He goes into a sort of trance. I’ve seen him do it._  
>  _(Sherlock takes a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket, holds it out and drops it onto the floor. Mycroft lifts his eyes to John, who bends down and picks it up. Mycroft looks away as John unfolds the piece of paper and looks at what’s written there, and his face fills with shock. He stares at Sherlock.)_  
>  _MYCROFT (his face turned away): We have an agreement, my brother and I, ever since that day._  
>  _(Sherlock bites his lip. In a cutaway flashback, a much younger Sherlock is lying on a mattress on a floor. Nearby, candles are burning in bottles. Sherlock is writhing and grimacing under the influence of the drugs he’s taken. Mycroft, apparently in his early/mid-twenties, is sitting on the mattress near his brother’s feet and now reaches down to a piece of paper lying next to Sherlock’s legs.)_  
>  _MYCROFT (voiceover): Wherever I find him ..._  
>  _(In the present, Sherlock closes his eyes._  
>  _In the past, Mycroft picks up the piece of paper and unfolds it to read it while his young brother continues to writhe in agony.)_  
>  _MYCROFT (voiceover): ... whatever back alley or doss house ..._  
>  _(In the present, Mycroft sinks back in his seat.)_  
>  _MYCROFT: ... there will always be a list._
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to Ariane Devere and her BBC’s _Sherlock_ transcripts. This comes from the special episode between Series 3 and 4, "[The Abominable Bride](https://arianedevere.dreamwidth.org/57859.html)".


	10. No Easy Way Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were sounds of reaction all around him. He heard none of it. Two sentences looped in his mighty brain.  
> [You would not have survived long here.]  
> [You’re never going to see the inside of any breeders, are you?]  
> Sherlock had not known he had walked away until he realized Greg was screaming his name. By then Sherlock had started to flat out run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide - not a major character.

“Sherlock please, remember you are not even supposed to be here - try not to veer off.” Greg asked quietly as they entered the club.  It was near daybreak outside, but it could have been half past midnight the moment the doors closed behind them, the darkness was so complete.

Sherlock simply nodded as he adjusted to what he presumed the clientele here called music assaulted his ears. He knew he should have brought his earplugs the moment Lestrade said the name of the club.

_Too late for it now. At least I left my Belstaff in Lestrade’s car. One less thing to disinfect._

Lestrade had been right. Clues from Bobby eventually lead to an international fight club that kidnapped those few that would not be missed – the homeless and then pitted against each other. Once captured the choices were go into the cage and beat someone to death and maybe live to see another day or get beat then and there by your capturer with an assured death. The assured death had taken a little longer than expected with Bobby.

The clues led them to a well-known club. One where no one would question the various clientele that frequented the establishment. It was the perfect cover.

“Hey cutie.” A young woman whose honeyed voice did not match the black and white hair that fairly glowed purple in the ultra violet light she stood under as she passed Sherlock and greeted Lestrade in a full press of breasts against the DI’s arm. Sherlock cringed at thought of the amount of body glitter that must have transferred to Greg's coats for she wore little else.

_Two Band-Aids and a paper serviette would have provided more coverage._

Sherlock let loose a low growl of annoyance. Lestrade dipped his head immediately. That he also had to chew the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing was irrelevant.

“Oh! I apologize, Alpha. Didn’t realize he was with you.” She then turned to Sherlock, sized him up and smiled, “If you two play, I’m in for a game.”

“Uni student by day, club dancer by night. Angling for extra tips and maybe a little _lurve_. We are not here to fulfill the obvious daddy issues going on, sugar daddy or otherwise.” He quickly held out a hand, keeping her at arm distance as they passed.

“Daddy issues?” Lester Pierce, Lestrade’s informant and their way in, asked as he led the way to the bar.

“There are dozens of more presumably age appropriate candidates here.  She passed me and bee-lined for Lestrade. When that didn’t work she went to the next person that fit her criterion. That certainly ruled out you. I can continue, but essentially, she’s tired and wants to be taken care of by someone older, more established. Daddy issues.”

“Lester! Haven’t seen you for a bit.” The bar tender greeted the informant.

“Had to lay low a moment, you know how it goes.” Lester smiled.

The bartender turned his attention to Lestrade, “What can I get for you?”

“It’s our anniversary, Alpha used to box when he was young. Quite the scrapper.”  Lestrade reached out and stroked Sherlock’s cheek, then let his hand rest on the detective’s chest as he brought his lips to brush the detective’s for a tender looking, but chaste kiss. “I wanted to show him something a little _different_ …”

_Lestrade you are so lucky I was expecting that. But are you expecting this?_

“You’re much too good to me.” Sherlock purred as he took the DL’s face in his hands. Lestrade’s eyes went wide for a split second at the kiss that was not chaste before he remembered his role. Sherlock did not enjoy the kiss, but he certainly enjoyed Lestrade’s discomfort as he played into it.

“Oh, just wait until later you!” The DI gritted out between a very toothy false grin.

Sherlock leaned in and stage whispered “Promise?”

“Oi! Can’t you keep your hands off each other?” If Lester was in any way surprised by their behavior he recovered quickly as he shook his head to the bartender as if to say ‘ _Those two!’_   “Let us in mate, before they think your bar top is a good place to start.”

The bar tender snorted and pressed a button under the counter. They heard a door behind a screen as it slid open. “Have fun.”

A door that connected to a long forgotten underground tunnel to an abandoned factory a half block away from the club. It appeared abandoned from the street level. They exited the tunnel into a basement where a match had just ended. Blood fresh and old laid testament to what has happened over the past few hours alone. Lestrade and Sherlock stood on the other side of the caged ring from Donovan and Dimmock who were playing a similar role as Sherlock and Lestrade. Sherlock could see three other undercover officers in the crowd that he recognized.

“Donovan’s upset. Whatever she’s witnessed, it must have been bad.” Sherlock whispered in Lestrade’s ear.

“Dimmock and Robinson look a little lurgy as well.” Lestrade agreed, “Shall we get a good time started.”

“Oh let’s.” Sherlock nodded. He scanned the crowd as he cheered and winced appropriately. He identified a few mid-level mob types, a Member of Parliament, the wage takers, hidden security and two ring leaders in the crowd. Lestrade caught Donovan’s eye and gave the signal when they were ready. Her look of utter relief as she signaled her acknowledgement was evident.

Fifteen minutes later Metro police swarmed the place. The two ring leaders and a few other suspects are pulled to the side a different room upstairs and interviewed. Sherlock stood to the side observing as Lestrade questioned Yuri, one of the suspects. A chain and a familiar piece of Jewelry caught the consulting detective’s eye.

“Lestrade that is a lovely locket wouldn’t you say?” Sherlock interrupted. “No, you wouldn’t say. An old-fashioned pull tab on a can of beer is lovely to you. No, I am willing to wager the back of that specific locket has an engraving of a daisy with the initials of D.A.B.”

Sherlock watched Yuri carefully as Lestrade threw a few more seemingly innocuous questions at him until the man realized he was trapped in his own lies. Yuri wore a locket that had belonged to Bobby. It was the only memento the young man had of his previous life before he became a runaway.He never would have voluntarily given it up.

Sherlock did get a couple of solid licks in when Lestrade did a horrible job of restraining him. Shortly they had the name of all involved in the ring and Sherlock had the names of two others who beat and raped Bobby.  

“Enough!” Lestrade yelled in his face when the consulting detective landed another solid elbow in Yuri midsection.

_Have you lost your mind?_

Something about the DI’s behavior gave Sherlock pause.

He looked around the room they were in, observed the other officers behavior. Some of the officers of Metro force were behaving aggressively with the suspects they watched, especially the Alphas in the room. It was when a few of the beta officers reported “feeling off” that it truly got his attention.

Lestrade narrowed his eyes as he visually swept the room yet again.

“Sherlock do you remember the blueprint data on this warehouse?” he asked suddenly.

Lestrade raised a brow to Sherlock, knowing the genius had an eidetic memory. Sherlock looked around the room then back to Lestrade and nodded.

He understood.

_For an area that should have the same square footage area as the floor below, this room is much too small._

“O’Reilly keep an eye on this one.” Lestrade stood and indicated the suspect with a head nod.

“You keep an eye.” came the grunted retort with a reciprocal head nod to the suspect. “I’m good over here.”

“What did you say?” Donovan was in O’Reilly’s face with a quickness. Sherlock observed the ends of curls continued to move in a certain way even after she stilled. She blinked as she looked to Sherlock confused by her own reaction.

_There’s a draft. How is there a draft in a sealed off room with no windows? There is another room!_

Even he was feeling tenser than he should. 

_Too many people feeling and behaving “off” that only happens when…_

Sherlock took a deep sniff on instinct.

_Oh God no!_

“There is a hidden door, a hidden room. We need to find it.” Sherlock started feeling along the wall nearest him.

_This one time, let me be wrong. Let me be wrong!_

He realized the problem. _Hurt Omega_ and _Omega in Heat_ scents are wafting through a seam in a hidden door. Even betas who cannot smell the pheromones floating around as Alphas and Omegas can will still be affected by them if exposed to then long enough, or if there was a high concentration.

"Got it!"

Donovan found the hidden latch and cracked the door open. The hormonal scent increased several fold.

There are omegas in heat in that room. Several of them.

There were Alpha officers in the group. Someone growled.

_Oh no!_

“CLOSE THAT DOOR NOW!” Sherlock yelled.

Too late.

Two Alpha males were completely caught off guard by the onslaught concentrated hormones heavy in the air and dropped into rut and started to snarl at each other. Lestrade immediately dropped them with tranquilizers that had become standard issue for that exact reason. It was the only thing that prevented a small melee as the two officers would have torn each other apart to prove himself the more worthy alpha to take care of the omegas sensed.

Sherlock stood by Donovan to help man the door when she took in a deep breath and purred at the consulting detective.

“Oh damn, Freak. You. Smell. Good.” Her eyes momentarily closed in rapture at his scent, then widened in horror as she realized what just happened. “Oh shite! Oh shite! No! No! No!”

She immediately reached into her pocket tried to inject herself with an Epi-pen of emergency hormones blockers even as she fought going into her own rut. Sherlock immediately backed away as Greg stared at his partner in shock for a moment before he took the epi-pen from her and quickly injected her.

Sherlock raised a brow as he sniffed her.

_Alpha? But that's not correct..._

“Yes, I’m inter-sexed.” Sally answered the unasked question once the emergency hormones had started to take effect. “Found out the hard way at my first rut. I was born alpha female, surgically and hormonally corrected to be raised as beta female. I can’t _do_ anything, but every now and then _this_ happens."

“Your secondary gender hormones compel you to do something your body no longer has the equipment to process.” Sherlock observed. “That is unfortunate, my friend.”

"My parents didn't know. That is what some beta parents choose to do regardless when faced with female alpha babies, not knowing our sexual organs are not vestigial. All these years on the force, this is the first time it was an issue.” She shrugged with a nonchalance Sherlock knew she did not feel.

“It is the high concentration of pheromones leaking from the other side of the door. Even betas are being affected by it. You are not to blame.” Sherlock explained “But you can’t stay here Sal. If what I suspect is happening behind this door is true, I have it on good authority your suppressants are not going to be enough for this.”

_Ruthless machines apply to Alpha bodies as well._

“Every Alpha, even if you are on suppressants, has to clear the area. Now.” Lestrade called out into the radio and the room. “I’m sorry Sal. See you back at the squad room.”

“Understood. Later, Boss. Thanks Sherlock."

Six alpha officers, including Donovan, left. Only the betas and Sherlock remained. All of whom had taken an emergency hormone shot to not have their moods affected like before. They were the only ones who could be trusted to not make a bad situation into a nightmare.

Lestrade opened the door.

An onslaught of pheromones and moans and wails assailed them. There were various sounds of distress from the officers as the enormity of what they just walked into hits them.

Legal elite breeder camps were luxuriously outfitted to make the experience as pleasurable as possible for both the consenting adult Alpha and Omega participants.

This was not an elite establishment.

It was an illegal breeding farm. Naked Omegas are chained everywhere. Some were chained to beds open to the room. Some were chained to beds in private stalls.

There were thirty-six omegas, three were male. 

“We need bolt cutters, get emergency and social services and tell them we’re going to need busses.” Lestrade radioed out and then let loose a string of curses.

 _My feelings exactly, Greg_.

Sherlock went to the door of stall of a young omega female in heat. She writhed on the bed, two fingers buried in her canal in an attempt to alleviate some of the ache that consumed her. Seeing Sherlock in the door she immediately got on her hands and knees and presented herself to him.

_Lestrade proved to be correct in removing all Alphas. This would have been bedlam._

“Please help me, please! Look how wet I am for you! Stick your dick in me! Knot me! Touch me! I will give you pups. I’m so ready. So ready! My last litter was seven pups, the one before that five. Please fuck me! Please!” She moved her bum in what Sherlock presumed was supposed to be an enticing manner, slick running down her thighs. It’s actual effect was anything but.

He estimated she has been in heat for at least a full twenty-four hours from the amount of slick pooled around her.

_This is untenable!_

“Oh God, she cannot be more than fifteen! How long has she been here? I think I’m going to be sick.” A Metro officer stood next to Sherlock utterly appalled.

_I concur._

“If they are in heat, bring then down, but don’t fully tranq them unless they’re in distress as she is. They need to be triaged and interviewed.” Sherlock gave the officer instructions and walked away. He could hear several such _introductions_ as hers were being made to the officers by other omegas in the room. 

A wall with circular cutouts and metal grab bars, like one would have in the shower to prevent falling, caught his attention.

 _Now what fresh hell is this!_?

He walked around speaking to random omegas before he found his way over to Lestrade who was talking to a male omega.

“Sherlock, I think you need to get out of here.” Lestrade looked up at him. Whatever he saw in the detective’s face he did not like.

“I am fine detective inspector.” Sherlock huffed.

Lestrade gave him a look that blatantly indicated his disbelief, but relented.

“Sherlock this is Louis Jacobs. To the best of his knowledge he’s been here at least seven years. He has given birth to eight litters. He was about to give me a rundown on how this hell hole works.”

“Hello Louis, I am Sherlock Holmes.” He inclined his head to the man in greeting.

“When we gets pregnant we’re taken somewhere else. This floor would be too much for a pregnant omega. Once pregnancy is confirmed, we get tranqed and wake up in a whole new world. Treated like royalty for as long as we’re carrying. Once the pups are born they get taken to the nursery and assigned wet nurses and you are taken to recovery. Recovery it like a limbo. Ain’t as good as the pregnancy suites, but it ain’t _this_. There you’re assigned a feeding schedule where you get pups to feed for a month. You have no idea if you’re feeding one of your own or not. After a month, you’re serviceable again. You gets another tranq and wake up back here. If they like you, you get a stall with its own separate toilet, like this. Otherwise you get a cot and a pot. If you’ve messed up and pissed one of the managers off, you get the hole.” The male indicated the wall with the cut outs. “Kittan! Still there?”

A moment later a rear end dripping with slick appeared in one of the holes.

“A gloryhole for omegas? Good god!” Lestrade stared. “So, the grab bars are for the pleasure of the clients?”

“The pooled slick would eventually make it impossible to get a proper hold standing there.” Sherlock explained beginning to feel truly sick, “So omegas are chained there for the however many days of their heat, or until they are confirmed pregnant?”

“It’s kinda hard to see from here but each hole is a separate stall which rises to a slot upstairs. The omega serving can only stand bent over with their arse in the hole to be used or they can lay down sort of fetal position. A manager is there to take them to the bathroom to shower and shite, but they are fed intravenously, so there is little. They given birth control and heat inducing hormones to serve three days on – one off. Pups will never attach and the heat does not ease. All new entrants start there for two weeks to learn that that is punishment, we do not want it. You never see them. They never see you, but they don’t care and after while neither do you. I accidentally hit an alpha who hurt me. I was there for two months. Coming off those hormones and being forced back into a natural heat after that was brutal. That was four litters ago. It still gives me nightmares.” The omega shuddered for emphasis.

“How did you wind up here Louis, if I may ask?” Sherlock asked.

“I was on the street coming from the chip place by Battersea. Someone bumped into me, scratched me. I felt like weird a few minutes later. The next thing I knew I was naked, leaking and in one the holes. I have not seen day or night except through the telly since I’ve been here. And even that is only in the pregnancy suites." Louis looked around. "That is always the goal, to get filled with pups as soon as possible so you get to the pregnancy suites.” 

“We only have a set amount eggs. What happens to the omegas who dry out?” Sherlock asked.

“You walk out one day and never return or you choose the life of Kittan. At some point even those who chose that give up and walk out one day.” Louis shrugged, then his eyes suddenly went wide in wonder “Oh god. I will get to see the sun again? With my own eyes? I really will?”

“Yes, Louis you will.” Sherlock assured the omega. “Health and social will work with you to reintegrate you to life in society.”

Lestrade hugged the man tightly as an officer arrived with bolt cutters. A moment later Louis Jacobs was free.

Sherlock and Lestrade continued the procedure with a few others, but kept coming back to Louis as he was assigned a social worker to begin repatriation into society.

Louis refused to leave until he saw that every other omega was gone. He looked to Sherlock “You’re Omega?”

“Yes.”

“You’re unlike any Omega I’ve ever met. You would not have survived long here. You’re too strong willed to bend.”

Sherlock blinked at the bald statement unsure how to respond. He looked to Lestrade who gave him a meaningful look as though something just dawned to him. He tactfully waited until Louis conversed with his social worker again before he came to stand beside Sherlock.

“If you don’t become Second Mate  – you… you’re never going to see the inside of any breeders, are you?” Lestrade’s warm brown eyes searched his. “You and Mycroft have already decided this?”

Neither were a question and they both knew it.

_I wish I could lie to you, Greg. I respect our friendship too much._

Lestrade let out a stuttered sigh; his eyes glittered in the unshed tears of the brutal truth he saw in Sherlock’s eyes without the detective saying a word as they all walked out.

Sherlock was a few steps ahead of them when Louis stepped out into the world for the first time in nearly eight years and found himself blinking in the glare of the sun, he collapsed onto Lestrade and burst into tears.

“Thank you! Thank you so much. All I wanted was to see it once more. Just once more.”

Something in the omega’s wretched voice made Sherlock turn around, just as he heard Lestrade yell.

“NO!” Sherlock roared in realization as he reached out.

Louis had quickly turned, pulled Lestrade’s service gun towards him as he pushed the DI away hard enough that Lestrade stumbled backwards and fell.

Louis raised the pistol to his temple and blew his brains out.

Sherlock, having been beside the omega, went stock still as parts of Louis splattered him.

There were sounds of reaction all around him. He heard none of it. Two sentences looped in his mighty brain.

_[You would not have survived long here.]_

_[You’re never going to see the inside of any breeders, are you?]_

Sherlock had not known he had walked away until he realized Greg was screaming his name. By then Sherlock had started to flat out run.

He ran. Just ran.

When the sunny day became an overcast day, he ran.

When the overcast day turned into rainy one, he still ran.

* * *

Mycroft was in the middle of negotiations with a couple of foreign dignitaries when Anthea interrupted with Detective Inspector Lestrade’s call. He spoke with the DI directly and the pieces started to fit together. Sherlock was in distress, yet had not called him. There was only one place he knew his brother would go and left instructions for Anthea to let him know once Sherlock had arrived.

Sometime later he watched his baby brother from the nearby surveillance camera as Sherlock approached his late-alpha’s grave. The man looked every inch the wreck he had to be feeling, but he did not kneel upon the grave as he had done at every other weekly visit for a year now.

Sherlock can no longer do so.

“I’m sorry Victor, I’m so sorry! Forgive me!”

Sherlock’s voice was so broken, the microphone barely picked up the words. Mycroft immediately muted the sound. Mycroft wanted to listen, desperately so, but not even he would transgress on this moment. His brother’s words to his former alpha should and would forever remain between the two of them.

Mycroft watched in pained silence as his brother said his piece to Victor Trevor's headstone. He gauged his younger brother’s state of mind by his movements. Sherlock had stood at Victor’s grave long enough that the curls which were plastered to his head when he first arrived had started to dry and were returning to their natural state as he walked away at last. Reluctance, but resolution in his step.

Mycroft understood the significance of what had happened even if he did not know all the details - yet.

He gave Anthea some instruction in preparation of the conversation he knew would come and headed back to finish the negotiations.

* * *

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock stood by John’s jaguar when Doctor Watson stepped out of the surgery for the night.  The man’s face was twisted in the pain he tried to hide, but failed as he miserably shivered.

_He looks like hell!_

The omega clearly had been caught in the downpour. Red streaks marred what was a crisp white shirt.

_He does not look hurt, but is that blood?_

“Sherlock! My god! What happened? Are you all right?” John hurried to the man, concern eyes segued into worry.

_He does not smell physically hurt, but Hurt Omega pours off him in waves. Something happened._

The moment John’s hand made contact, Sherlock bowed his head. It was his scent more than anything that gave John the information he needed to realize Sherlock was not collapsing as he lowered himself to the ground. He held a closed fist over his chest with his non-dominant hand as he held the dominant hand out palm up.

_Ancient Form._

Sherlock had chosen to use the Ancient Form to make his wishes known. John had not seen it done in person before, but recognized it immediately.

Omega Sherlock Holmes had bowed his head and slid to his knees before Alpha John Watson.

Head bowed and on one’s knees for it is Omega’s honor to serve Alpha. Their very being is their gift to them. A closed fist over the chest because Second Mate can claim no rights to the Alpha’s heart. They can never hope to have that which only the First Spouse can claim. A raised palm up in Omega’s hope of the honor of being led by Alpha through this world.

John had claimed the unbonded omega publicly. Even if he wanted to, he could not retract his offer when he knew the dire consequences for the desperate man before him. He knew the brilliant omega had to be desperate to come to him, a complete stranger, like this.

_What happened to you?_

Conversation that should have happened long before this moment would have to wait.

Sherlock had started the ancient form. John had to respond in kind.

The alpha slowly walked around the omega to take his measure.

He was strong despite being slender. Relatively healthy – he suspected the man did not eat properly. He already knew this was no ordinary omega. Insolence was a given, but so was intelligence. The rest they would have to figure it out and hope for the best.

He ended his inspection standing with one closed fist – Alpha strength, over one open palm – Alpha benevolence, then placed his wrists crossed behind him in denial of both to the omega before him. Sherlock cannot speak until directly addressed.

John looked around the wet asphalt of the parking lot.

_Not exactly auspicious beginnings here. Leap of faith, John, leap of faith._

“I am Alpha. Alpha is Strength. Alpha is Munificence. Alpha is Will and my will is All. Look upon me and ask how my will shall be yours, omega.”  

There was a long pause. For a moment John wondered if the omega had changed his mind when Sherlock looked up at last.

“I submit my will to yours in offer of Second Mate.”

Luminous green eyes looked up into his. There was a wetness to Sherlock’s face that John could not in any way mistake for rain as the omega forced the formal words out past the enormous lump in his throat.

“Am I worthying of your protection? Am I worthying of your benevolence? Am I worthying of the honor to call you _Alpha_?” 


	11. Enter The Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John glanced up and saw another camera nod in acknowledgement that it was focused on him. John swallowed tightly as he looked to the man beside him again.  
>  _Government spook. Sherlock is somehow involved with a damn spook._  
>  “Who. The hell. Are you? And what are you to my omega?” He repeated through gritted teeth. He did not expect an answer, so he was surprised when he got one.  
> “I occupy a minor government position in Transport.”  
> “Bollocks!”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You CLAIMED him‽”

John was prepared for Mary’s outburst. He could not blame her reaction, but it did not help.

They were well into the second hour of this argument/discussion as the alpha dealt with the repercussions of his actions.

“He’s an unbonded omega with only a couple of weeks of freedom left. If he’s not someone’s second mate they are going to come for him. What was he going to do live a life on the run? No. You haven’t met him, Mare. That will not do. He is no ordinary omega. A mind like his? His fortitude? He walked up to Dennison and took him down in one fell swoop. He sometimes assists New Scotland Yard with their weirder cases. This is one time where I would gainsay the Hippocratic Oath, that it would be a mercy that he kill himself than go to a breeder camp. And after Dennison showed his true colors he’d prefer breeder camp to Franklyn.”

John sat on the couch as Mary slowly walked around the room as was her wont when in contemplation.

“But why you‽”

_How many times are you going to ask that?_

“Because I think I might understand him a little. I understand him enough to know, most alphas would not put up with him having such a smart mouth, let alone such a career. There’s not a demur bone in his body. Actually, come to think of it, he’s an outright bastard.”  John said.

“You _do_ realize you are trying to convince me, right?” She said sardonically. “Not exactly giving him a ringing endorsement, darling.”

John half smiled at that.

“Point. But I’ve already claimed him publicly at the hospital last week. Tonight, I claimed him to his Alpha Familiar nonetheless. If I publicly retract I know Dennison will accept the momentary public ridicule of being bested by an omega for the long-term satisfaction of seeing him in chains and forcibly bred anyway. The bastard would assuredly claim something archaic as First Justice for humiliation and retribution. Holmes will kill himself before that happens. I would be signing his death warrant if I recant now. I know this has been thrust on you, on us, but let’s just meet with him. Meet with him and his brother.”

“I swear the archaic laws and ancient forms that govern secondary genders is ridiculous.” Mary sighed as she took a seat at last. “Fine, set it up.”

John closed his eyes as he thought on the ancient forms that gave him a second mate named Sherlock Holmes.

<><><><> 

Alpha John lowered himself to kneel with Omega Sherlock in accordance to the ancient forms. He must see that lower perspective once and only once with the omega so that he is reminded how that perspective is never to be his. It the only time Alpha is to do so.

Sherlock lowered his head again and kneels back fully. For even the one time alpha kneels the omega must always be in a lower position, a reminder of the omega’s place.

Even if he were not Alpha,  John could sense the trembling dread in Sherlock. Because it is his right and the ancient forms do not state otherwise, he uses a finger to lift Sherlock’s head, so they are eye-to-eye. Eyes that are rendered a near translucent grey in the street lamp light flick over his face nervously as the omega waited for his response.

John took both of his hands and placed them open on the closed hand over Sherlock’s heart. Were they getting married as First Mates he would wrap one hand under Sherlock’s, take the open hand and wrap it around the two and then wrap his dominant hand over all as he guided their wrapped hands to his heart to stay and they rise together. _What was your heart as omega is now is mine as Alpha and I will lead you._

But this is Second Mate.

John gently, but decidedly pushed his open hands onto the closed hand over the heart into Sherlock. A dual shield. One that keeps things in. One that keeps things out.

“ _Your heart is yours alone to bear, Omega. I, Alpha, will not love, but I will protect.”_

He balled his nondominant hand and placed it flat on his own chest, blocking the omega from taking it.

_“This alpha heart is mine and my beloved’s own, you cannot have it.”_

John fisted his dominant hand and pressed it gently to Sherlock’s forehead.

_“Alpha’s will is Omega’s honor, my will is yours.”_

Sherlock then responded in kind.

_“My omega heart is mine alone; Alpha will not love it. Alpha’s heart belongs to Alpha and his beloved, I will not have it. Alpha’s will is my honor, my will is yours.”_

A spouse’s hand would be grasped over hand, fingers curled into each other for Alpha to lovingly lead. When John reached for Sherlock’s outstretched hand the omega started to curl his fingers. John stopped his motion and waited. He saw the chagrin that flashed across the omega’s face at his mistake as he straightened his fingers again.

Alpha cannot love him.

John placed his dominant hand under Sherlock’s outstretched wrist.

“ _It is my will that you are my Second Mate. Where Alpha leads, Second Mate follows.”_

Sherlock took the hand from his chest and held it out. This would normally be where the spouse would take the other hand and the omega would vow “Where the omega/beta leads, the second mate follows” in understanding of the second mate’s lowered status to that of the omega or beta spouse and to be led by both.

_It is just as well. I can’t imagine that going over well for either. Mary is going to go apoplectic._

John placed his nondominant hand under Sherlock’s other outstretched wrist. Sherlock nods once in acceptance of the change.

_“The alpha’s will is the second mate’s honor. The second mate follows, where the alpha leads.”_

That Sherlock said all the words through clenched teeth which John knew had to hurt was irrelevant. He had said them.

He wrapped his fingers in a grasp of both wrists and squeezed gently.

Finally, John looked up at the only thing Alpha is beneath, the heavens. Hands still clasped, he stood.

He knew it was not what was expected and was prepared for Sherlock’s look of surprise when he pulled the omega to stand.

 _“Second Mate you now have the honor to call me_ Alpha _.”_

Sherlock blinked and raised his head. John knew the omega was still to be on his knees looking up to him when he said his next words, but John can’t do it. They’ve already changed one rule between them. What’s another? Granted, Sherlock was technically taller than he by only a couple of inches, but John knew the omega understood, Sherlock lowered his head again, but remained standing.

They stood as such for a long while. Too long.

John knew something inside the man was breaking. Something in John’s gut twisted and he gently sighed. He could not bear to see this proud man, this omega like this.

“Sherlock raise your head.” The omega looked puzzled, but did as bidden as John stepped to him. John took Sherlock’s left in his left hand and sniffed the wrist. He ran his hand up the still damp arm to Sherlock's shoulder. The longer John touched him the more the omega's body seemed to vibrate in apprehension. By the time the alpha reached the pale neck and ran a finger along the trapezius the man practically thrummed. He gently palpated the gland to remind Sherlock of the words had to be said. They both knew this. Sherlock stared at him for a long moment before he closed those piercing eyes. John could all but see the resolution as the omega took a breath and opened his eyes.  

“ _My Alpha_.”

John removed his hands placing them behind him.

“My Omega. My Second Mate.”

The two stared at each other faced with what should happen next.

Curious as to exactly what the omega would do John stepped to Sherlock and ran his nose along the slight expanse of the pale shoulder and neck before him.

He sensed rather than saw that the omega, _his omega_ , had raised his hands prepared to push him off, but wrestled the reaction and stilled himself. Instead Sherlock shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and slowly bared his neck.

_My God! You’d really let me do this here if I wanted. If I insisted. What the hell happened to you today?_

He knew Sherlock smelled his intent, or rather the lack thereof, the stark relief visible. John took a step back from him and sighed deeply.

“Relax Sherlock. Even under the most favorable of circumstances there is no way in hell I would bond an omega in the middle of a fucking parking lot.”

_We really don’t know each other enough for you know that of me._

John clicked the remote for the Jag “Get in and let me drive you home. On the way you can tell me what happened that brought you here to me. I suspect it will explain the blood and brain matter.”

As he drove Sherlock told him of the illegal breeders and Louis Jacobs. John asked very few questions as he spoke but once Sherlock finished the doctor fully understood. Each were in their own thoughts for a while, but then John noticed Sherlock went unnaturally silent.

“Sherlock?”

It was as though his body was there, but his mind had gone elsewhere. John instinctively knew he was not catatonic, for he sometimes moved his hands and turned his head now and again though his eyes were closed. It looked as though he was talking to himself, but he was not speaking aloud.  John did not begin to worry until Sherlock’s mobile rang the first time, but he did not answer. Nor the second, third or fourth time.  Then John’s hospital mobile rang in. He did not think about as he answered through the car.

“Watson.”

“Doctor John Hamish Watson, Alpha. Former captain of the Northumberland Fusiliers.” A very cold male voice spoke and then proceeded to give him the current street he was driving on and the intersection he had just passed.

_What the hell?_

John looked around, the closet vehicle was two blocks ahead of him.

_Cameras._

“Cameras, you’re following me via cameras? Why?”

John pulled over and looked around.

“Excellent, now that you’ve pulled-over, please pay heed to the security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?” The voice continued.

“Who is this?”

“Do you see the camera, Mr. Watson?”

John’s eyes narrowed as he looked through the windshield, then nodded once he saw the camera in question as it bobbed up and down.

“Watch.”

The camera stops its movements to swivel directly to look at him and then away.

“There is another camera on the building opposite you. Do you see it?”

“Yes.” John tersely acknowledged the other camera it swiveled toward him, them away.

_What the hell is this?_

“And finally, at the top of the building on your right.”  

John stared at the third camera that is already turning away from him.

“How are you doing this?” John gripped his steering wheel tight, taking slow breaths to calm the anger starting to rise in him.

“You are married to a beta Mary Elizabeth Watson neé Morstan.”

It was a damned good thing John was already parked. Like most alphas he had a custom steering wheel option installed. Pigmented vinyl resins molded over steel alloy designed to withstand the exceptional grip of some alphas. Even so John forced himself to release his grip on the wheel as heard the slight groan of metal in his grip.

“And you have now officially crossed a line.”

John did not like being threatened, let alone threaten his wife, for this was certainly an overt threat.  He looked at the man in the seat next to him oblivious to what’s going on, but knew this obvious threat had everything to do with him.

“I do not know who you are. I honestly do not give two shites. You want a piece of me fine. Clearly you can find me if you want. All I ask is that you let me get my omega safely home. Then whoever the fuck you are can come find me and we can tussle. In the meantime, fuck you. He is _mine_.”

John disconnected and drove off again. He was not surprised when his mobile rang in again a moment later. He accelerated, but did not answer. He pulled out his personal mobile to warn Mary when it rang in his hand from her number. He rang in, but did not speak knowing it was _him_ again.

“ _Your_  omega?” The voice on the phone seemed confused and to lose just a bit of its frost. “How is he _your_ omega?”

_Someone who knows Sherlock and knows he’s unbonded. Who the hell is this man?_

John disconnected the call.

_What the bloody hell‽_

John called out to the omega beside him “Sherlock if you can hear me, now would be a  _really_  good time for you to snap out of whatever this is and talk to me!”

He pulled over again, the omega’s condition had started to worry him.

“Omega?” John reached a hand out to touch the omega.

“No! Do not touch him like that he may react badly.” The cold voice spoke again only this time through the car’s InControl system.

_Holy FUCK!_

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” John snapped.

“The melodramatics are hardly necessary, Doctor.” There was a definite note of amusement in the man’s voice, which did absolute wonders to improve the alpha’s mood.

“Oh? Well, thank God _you’re_ above all that.” John retorted, his voice pure sarcasm as he faced the nearest camera he spotted pointed at him.

“For a man in your position you don’t seemed frightened.” The cold voice noted.

“For a voice inside my damned car, you don’t seem frightening.” John rolled his eyes. “Now how do I bring my omega out.”

“Tap him thrice on the inside of his right wrist, pause and then repeat.”

John glanced up and saw another camera nod in acknowledgement that it was focused on him. John swallowed tightly as he looked to the man beside him again.

_Government spook. Sherlock is somehow involved with a damn spook._

“Who. The hell. Are you? And what are you to my omega?” He repeated through gritted teeth.  He did not expect an answer, so he was surprised when he got one.

“I occupy a minor government position in Transport.”

 _“_ Bollocks! _”_

 “Just... Just do it Mr. Watson. It will work. _Please_.”

_Please?_

There was something a little desperate in the man’s cold voice.

_So, Sherlock is very important to someone very important. Important enough to go these through extreme measures for him._

_Gut instinct time, Watson. Leap of faith._

John waited until the right wrist was resting and slowly circled his had around it. He naturally found the man’s pulse that ran a little too fast for his liking, but conceded he did not know what was normal for this omega in this state. He tapped three times on the pulse point. Sherlock’s luminous eyes fluttered as John paused. The doctor then tapped thrice again. John held his index finger loosely on the younger man’s pulse as Sherlock shook his head slightly, took a deep breath and then exhaled. The pulse slowed as Sherlock focused and became aware of his surroundings.

_Strong, steady. Good._

“You can let go now.” Sherlock pulled his wrist from John’s grasp. He let out an exasperated sigh and held out his hand for the mobile John held. “I am fine. Let me speak to my brother.”

“Is that how your mother taught you to ask for things?”  John snarked as he held his phone away from the omega.

 _Ah, this is the rude man I know. Did he say his_ brother _?_

He was not sure, be he could have all but sworn he heard a snort come from the InControl.

Sherlock flicked his eyes up. He had heard it as well and was not surprised.

 “I’m pretty sure the voice on the other end wished there were days he could have disciplined me as such.” Sherlock rolled his eyes as he reached for his own phone and speed dialed someone. “I am fine. Stop threatening the good doctor. He’s done nothing, but save my life. Still, I suspect he needs to have a long conversation with his wife. Send a car to this location, I will explain.”

“Ten minutes.” The voice through the InControl disconnected.

“I am not just _the good doctor_. _I_ am taking you home.” John said in no uncertain terms as he put the car in gear again.

“You.” Sherlock reached out a hand and then stopped. “Oh.” Sherlock bit his lip and pulled out his mobile. He looked chagrined that his brother apparently expected the call. “Yes, _he_ will take me home.”

“Exerting your will already _Alpha_?” Sherlock did not hide his derision in the word as he disconnected.

_Well, that sorry tearful part was short lived, huh?_

“No, you bloody git, we’re less than ten minutes from Baker Street.” John said instead, “You will be in your flat and have started getting out of your literally bloody clothes before whatever car would have reached here to pick you up. It’s being efficient, not alpha.”

Sherlock looked out the window as though he had not heard him.

_What, nothing smart to say? Good!_

“Look Sherlock, conversations, several of them, need to be had between us. But first I need to talk to my wife as you’ve noted and I suspect you need to have a conversation with your Alpha Familiar, Frosty the Spookman.” John said after a quiet moment.

John had expected scorn, derision, a scathing retort, _something_ from the omega for mocking a big brother who apparently really is _Big Brother_. What he did not expect was laughter.

Sherlock looked at John incredulously as he mouthed “Frosty the Spookman” before he burst into peals of unhinged laughter. It really was not that funny, but John understood it was part and parcel a reaction to the stress the omega had to be under. Still, John found himself sniggering as well by the time he pulled up to the black door of 221B Baker Street.

John turned to speak, but Sherlock exited the car and sprinted to the door, keys already in hand as he entered without a glance back.

John rubbed his hands over his face roughly, annoyed to the nth degree.

_Motherfu….! What the bloody hell just happened here‽_

He was about to pull off when his mobile rang in. The caller ID displayed S. Holmes. After what just happened with the brother, he was barely surprised.

“What do you want you rude arse?” He answered testily.

“I, I deserved that.” Sherlock’s voice came over the speakers with an actual sound of contrition in his voice.

“I.. I owe you my life. I am not accustomed to such generosity for small things and tonight was far from small. As you’ll learn I am not one for _sentiment_ , but tonight…. I want – no, I need to express… Damn.” John could hear the intake of breath before he spoke again “Thank you, John Watson, thank you for saving me. Thank you for saving my life.” 

John could hear the tiny break in the omega’s voice and could guess how much it hurt him to say that much. He was not surprised in the least when Sherlock disconnected before he could respond.

He thought of Mary then and how she will respond.

_Now the real fun begins._


	12. Damn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, I thought you knew. Apologies.” Mycroft said smoothly as he took a sip of his tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter. The next will be longer.

Sherlock waited by the door at the top of the seventeen steps. Mrs. Hudson had answered the door when John and Mary Watson arrived. They had to ring her buzzer, he had forgotten to reconnect his again. He listened as his favorite _Not His Housekeeper_ introduced herself and they chatted a moment. Sherlock could not help but smile a little at the woman. Mrs. Hudson knew he waited. By chatting with them a moment he gets data, giving him an early read on them.

_Oh, Hudders you are wonderful._

“Oh, look at me prattling on! You’re so kind to indulge me.” he heard the woman say to them before she bellowed his name.

“Send them up Mrs. Hudson. I’m sure you’ve chewed their ear off more than enough.” He called down at her summons and waited.

Sherlock nodded as John and Mary Watson passed him to ascend. He barely remembered to keep his head bowed until both had passed finally meeting their eyes once when they were all on the landing by the open door.

“Sherlock this is my wife of five years, Mary.” John started the introduction.

“Beta. Doctor recently returned from a stint in Bolivia with _Médecins Sans Frontières._ Doctor of Obstetrics. Currently working part time at your husband’s clinic. You are an only child. Right handed. Good at languages. Myopic – you wear contacts, but also glasses. You’re clever and you like cats though you don’t have one.”

He stopped when his saw her face.

“Apologies. That is usually subtext.” Sherlock held out his hand for John’s coat.

“What have you told him?” Mary turned to John surprised.

“He’s not told me anything, I’ve observed.” Sherlock explained, then added “And Googled, a little.”

“Then how….” She looked from John to Sherlock as she offered the latter her coat.

“Your work history is easily searchable when one knows where to look. I listened as you joked with Mrs. Hudson regarding a locksmith from France you know who could probably install a buzzer I would not be able to break. 1. I consider that a challenge and 2. Though French is not your native language you pronounced _serrurerie_ perfectly. You said that I would have to wait on line for her services. _On line_ is an American phrase, British say _in queu_ e, thus you’ve spent enough time in the States to have picked up their colloquialisms. You’ve worked in South America with MSF for several tours, which means you are likely fluent in Spanish.” Sherlock took her coat, hung it on the rack and faced them again.

_Your accent is English, but I suspect you are not and you speak more than three languages._

“Mary, meet Sherlock Holmes, my omega, our Second Mate.” John finished the introductions. “He did something similar to me when we first met.”

“Interesting.” Mary smiled.

“Shall we?” Sherlock kept his expression neutral as he gestured toward the salon.

“Of course.” John headed in.

Though shorter than Sherlock Mary lifted her head, while Sherlock inclined his in acknowledgement of their stations as John walked in first as Alpha. As soon as John turned his back Mary twisted and then slid her hand so that hers was on top so she grasped his wrist tightly as one would a wayward child that constantly pulled away from a parent. It was a blatant move to remind Sherlock of his lowered status to her.

_One that I did not need reminding of, but thank you Mrs. Watson._

She pushed his hand away then plastered on a beguiling smile when John turned and followed her husband into the room. 

John took the seat to the left of the fire place. Sherlock moved to go sit in his favored chair in front of the fireplace and stopped. He stood slightly akimbo, hands in his trousers pockets and waited as Mary walked slowly around the small salon.

“Charming.” Mary stopped at the fire place where the thing everyone noticed upon entering has caught her eyes as well and she pointed to it, “That… is a skull.”

“Friend of mine.” Sherlock explained and glanced at John whose lip quirked.

“Is that a friend as well?” She pointed to the deer skull with the headphones that decorated the wall between the windows.  

“Not so much, no.”

_I cannot sit until the alpha and spouse have taken seat and she knows this._

“Okay. You’ve piqued my interest how did you know about the glasses?”

“I can see you wear contacts. Yet you also have the slight indentations along your nose of someone who wears glasses on a regular basis, not to mention the slight tan line.”

Sherlock heard the front door open and close. Knowing who it was, he excused himself and went into the kitchen.

“Mr. Watson, Mrs. Watson, afternoon.” Mycroft entered the salon placing his briefcase by the door. “I am Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock’s brother and Alpha Familiar. Please forgive my tardiness.”

John turned in his seat to the kitchen and raised a brow to Sherlock in question. Sherlock gave a slight nod in response.  

_Yes, that is Frosty, the Spookman._

“My brother is never late unless he chooses to be. He wanted to make an entrance.” Sherlock exited the kitchen carrying a tea service and placed it on a side table near John.

His older brother gave him a quick look, then a slightly longer one. The slight nod was near imperceptible, but Sherlock knew he knew.

“We’ve only just arrived ourselves. Got caught up in that dust up over by Piccadilly as well?” John stood, “No longer the disembodied voice. I’d say a pleasure, but we’d both know I’d be lying.”

Neither alpha offered a hand to the other. Sherlock rolled his eyes. He watched Mary as the two Alphas visually squared off. She appeared as amused by the grandstanding as he, as she looked to Sherlock with a smirk that clearly said _Alphas(!)_.

_So, John told her about my brother’s high-handed ways last night._

John winked at his wife and held out his hand, “As you know this is my wife, Mary.”

_He does love her and she him. I suppose that is good._

“Mrs. Watson.” Mycroft inclined his head as he shook her hand.

“Yes, do take seats, let my wash my hands. I’ll be mother.” Mycroft placed his ever-present umbrella by Sherlock’s preferred chair clearly marking that is where he intended to sit.

John smirked at the move as he smoothly took his wife’s hand, walked over to the sofa and sat with her. His glance to Sherlock as he passed showed he understood the power move and was highly amused by it.

So was Sherlock as he moved the umbrella over to the seat John vacated and sat in the chair himself. It was his preferred chair.

“Sherlock was just explaining to me how he knew I liked cats…” Mary took a seat.

“Did you deduce her out loud?” Mycroft tutted as he entered the salon again and prepared the cups of tea. Once everyone was served he took the seat opposite Sherlock as though that were always his intent.

With a pang, Sherlock realized it was exactly the elder brother’s intent, as Mycroft’s lip quirked briefly at the umbrella then at Sherlock before he sat. “Shall we begin?”

Sherlock watched Mary who quietly sat and sipped her tea as Mycroft and John hammered out the details of his life as though neither he nor she were in the room. In all honesty he did not need to speak much, for Mycroft knew him well enough to know what his absolutes were. He had gone through this once before with Victor and knew what to expect. Mary on the other hand was an orphan. John had not had to ask anyone’s permission to have her and Sherlock found himself quite envious of that freedom.

They were an hour into it when Mary dropped the bomb as she looked squarely at Sherlock.

“And what of children?”

“Excuse me?” Sherlock turned to her. He was grateful he had finished his tea and the cup was already on the tray. It spared him the embarrassment of dropping it.

_She did that on purpose!_

“He is Second Mate.” She turned to her husband and blew across the top of her tea. “Is that not part and parcel of the title as I understand it?”

John and Sherlock looked at each other then looked away, Mycroft raised a brow at the silent exchange.

“That is a good question Sherlock. Had you and Victor sired, this situation would be moot. Omegas with children through marriage are not sent to camps. It is why so many First Born are also First Year.” Mycroft pointedly paused and looked at his brother over his teacup.  “Or is it a moot point already since your alpha has successfully bonded you?”

Sherlock knew his brother said it on purpose and he could not help but take a moment’s pleasure when Mary’s teacup clattered to its saucer before she hastily placed both on the coffee table.

“What‽” She stared at her husband.

“Oh, I thought you knew. Apologies.” Mycroft said smoothly as he took a sip of his tea.

_Damn you, Brother Mine._


	13. Claimed

Sherlock had showered, changed into his blue striped pyjamas bottoms, a ratty uni tee that had seen better days and his pale blue dressing gown. He had not tried to save the clothes he had worn, binning everything before he headed to the salon. He opened his violin case, picked a few piccato notes before he lifted it to his chin and walked to the window to play.

A familiar Jaguar was still parked out front.

_John is still here?_

John was still in front of Baker Street. He could see the alpha through the open sunroof, slumped in the seat, his fingers tapped the steering wheel.

_You did just drop a lot on the man._

Sherlock sighed as he put the violin and bow down and went out to the car.

“I saw you from the window. Would you like to come up a moment, sit comfortably, figure things out?”

John blinked when Sherlock opened the passenger side door, not having noticed his approach.

“It’s freezing out here! I can’t believe you came out like that. You just took a shower. Get inside.” John admonished.

“Then you should come in and spare me the folly for having come out to you.” Sherlock mused as he inclined his head toward the open front door of 221B and stood.

John locked the car and followed him in.

“Where do you park?”

“My landlady has a garage not far from here. The Jaguar you saw me in is hers, she lets me borrow it as needed.”

_The vixen has yet to let me get my hands on that red Aston Martin, though._

“You raced me in a car that was not yours. You’re insane.” John laughed as he hung up his coat next to Sherlock’s.

_Oh, Lestrade delivered my coat. I must remember to text him later._

John entered the salon and pointed at the mantle, “That is a real skull.”

“Friend of mine.” Sherlock responded automatically, then realized how it sounded “When I say ‘friend’…”

_Never mind._

John slowly nodded as he looked around “Nice. Very nice indeed.”

“I think so. How do you feel about the violin?” Sherlock looked around the salon with a slight smile. It was eclectic and an outright mess as Mrs. Hudson is fond of telling him, but he liked it.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Sherlock walked to the window and lifted the instrument. “I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end.” He looked to John “Would that bother you? Alphas and Second Mates should know the worst about each other.”

“I thought you blanked out when you think.” The alpha sat in the side chair closest to Sherlock, realized he would have to twist to speak with him and switched to the other chair. He gave a slight little smile as he sank into its comfort.

_It suits him._

“I was in my mind palace. That’s different.”

A part of him breaks. He cannot explain he has been rapidly trying to store away memories of Victor Trevor for safe keeping since he left the cemetery. An omega cannot serve two Alphas.

Sherlock gave a short explanation of the concept of his mind palace before he picked up his violin and started to play.

Lost to his music as always when he played, it takes a moment to realize that he was not alone and that John had called his name more than once.

John had stood, he was ready to leave. There was so much that needed to be said. To be done.

“I suppose we should all meet tomorrow. You, me, my Alpha Familiar, your wife. Start to figure this out.” Sherlock spoke, stopping him.

“Yes, we should. It’s too late to change my morning schedule. Will half three work?” John stopped at the door. Something in those blues eyes shifted and Sherlock put the violin and bow away.

_Damn. I was hoping for more time._

The alpha looked to the omega. Sherlock knew John could see his apprehension for it was the doctor's apprehension as well.

“It has to be done. That it is part of the point of this, no?”

Sherlock nodded. His throat suddenly dry.

_It is._

John stood by the door and waited. Still, Sherlock hesitated. The last few hours had been a maudlin series of goodbyes and he was overwhelmed.

He took a deep breath and then another, steeled himself then stepped over to the alpha and offered his left wrist. The alpha took it in his left hand. The subtle and not so subtle reminders -stronger  to weaker always.

“Close your eyes, omega.”

_I’m going to have to trust him._

He closed his eyes and felt as John pressed his forehead to his.  John ran soft fingers through his curls, lightly massaged his scalp. All of it designed to ease his tension, Sherlock knew this. Yet it worked.  After all, he had not been touched in any way other than clinical in over a year, or for the work as with Greg. It was as inventive piece of acting on his part with Greg, but acting nonetheless. This was not acting. 

Sherlock groaned in surprise as John brought their mouths together. His mind raced madly, he felt it as his body stretched and relaxed into the attention.

_This was… very different._

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock and tugged him forward until they were flush against each other.

Sherlock whimpered against John’s lips as his body came into contact with the alpha.

He took in a deep breath.

“ _Let my first breath each dawn be from Alpha.”_ The alpha’s natural scent, overall bright, but with a dark depth in the after breath that lingered.

“ _Let me last breath each dusk be to Omega._ ” John sniffed along his jaw.

“God, omega you smell so ….” the thought left unfinished as John’s tongue emerged to taste him as he licked across Sherlock's throat, just to the side of his Adam's apple.

_He’s trying to be gentle._

John nudged his head and Sherlock let his own tip to the side baring his neck. Sherlock tried to remain aloof. He tried, but then John wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. He got his first hint of the alpha’s strength and his omega body responded in kind. He groaned shamelessly loud when John’s mouth grazed his shoulder. He felt the warm, wet lips ghost across his skin, followed by a tongue and the hint of teeth.

_Oh damn._

John sucked at the skin, alternating between soft enough to tease and hard enough to nearly bruise. Sherlock really started to feel it. Felt his gland respond to the alpha’s attentions. John’s canine’s had grazed gently in warning when he paused.

Sherlocked opened his eyes in confusion and looked to John then understood.

_He needs to know. The only time he will ask my permission if he chooses._

“Yes, Alpha. Let this omega be yours.”

John bit.

Sherlock screamed as the first hint of Alpha reached his blood stream and lanced him with fire. Only John’s solid grip kept Sherlock in place as his teeth sank further into the flesh. They both knew what was happening: Pheromone Rejection.

Sherlock wants to live, but the omega in him knows this alpha is not wanted and is attempting to reject him. It hurts because his body is trying to burn out alpha’s pheromones. Unfortunately, the only way past it was for the John to inject more pheromones until his overrode the previous alpha's and he and the omega balanced.

Sherlock knew this, still he could not stop himself.

_Not Victor! Not Victor!_

Before it was banned, little more than a century ago, this was how a less scrupulous alpha would poach a weaker alpha’s omega. To keep the omega from returning to the former and/or favored alpha they would flood their pheromones into the unwilling omega until the omega either belonged to them or died fighting them. Considered a psychic rape without consent, now any Alpha convicted of such was branded and shunned. Its use was only allowed in the case of a new Second Mate like Sherlock. For an omega cannot serve two Alphas in his blood, even if one is dead. It was the only way the new alpha can bond.

Sherlock knew John was trying to be kind, not hurt him too badly, even as his teeth sank further into the flesh pumping more of his pheromones. Sherlock felt it as John forced his hands away from holding him tight. Felt the light air pressure as John’s fists slammed into the wall on both sides of his head.

“Stop fighting me!” John pulled back suddenly, teeth bared, his mouth beautifully bloody.

“I’m trying! Just bond me already and be done!”  Sherlock cried helplessly.

Something dark and terrible flashed in the John’s eyes and Sherlock blanched in the heat of it.

It was not just the omega in him that was suddenly terrified. Sherlock himself would have fled if John’s arms had not snapped around him in a grip he had no chance of breaking as the alpha sank his teeth into his flesh again.

Sherlock was too shocked to scream as tears streamed down his face. His body shook terribly in the John’s ironclad grasp. The alpha’s possession of him an unyielding fire that lanced through every synapse. So acute and crystalline it stripped his mind, his body, his soul, straight down to his omega core.

It was a barely heard susurrus.

It was a thunderous roar.

It was the combined screams of lives snuffed as stars went supernova.

It was the silence of the void in its aftermath.

And then the pain just… stopped.

_“{MINE!}”_

Sherlock moaned, his eyes shuttered closed, punch drunk in the overabundance of Alpha within him.

He dropped completely into his omega.

“ _Alpha_ …” the omega keened, his voice a low lusty rumble. Slick formed as he slumped drunkenly against his alpha.

John gasped as he drew back, not a hint of his blue iris existed, he had dropped into his alpha. The omega moaned.

The omega would have fallen from the sudden loss of contact were he not securely held in his alpha’s arms.

“{Omega?}”

“Yes, Alpha?”

“{ _Remember_ my blood always. You are _mine_.}”

The omega moaned instinctively as he licked his alpha’s neck. The primal core of his Alpha now imprinted on him.

"Always."

“{Can you walk?}”

The omega thought he moved on his own volition when he realized he was falling, unable to stand, the next thing he knew he was in Alpha’s arms being carried to his bedroom.

* * *

  
The alpha was almost unbearably gentle as he laid his omega down on the bed. The only light in the room came from a small lamp bedside. Alpha disrobed the omega and then himself. Omega’s luminous eyes were rendered near glassy in the darkened room, still Alpha preened in the blatant admiration shown of his body. His silvered blond hair rendered near platinum in the light. The eyes that gazed over the solid musculature the alpha before him. Omega greedily took in the alpha’s cock visually. Dark, veined and becoming more engorged by the second in want as Alpha’s knee sank onto the bed to crawl over him. 

He thanked every deity in existence as he admired the long pale elegant form before him. He began to map out every centimeter of the gorgeous body exposed to him with his fingers and lips. He teased with licks and nibbles and rubbed his hard body against him until the omega let out a loud groan. Alpha smiled as he let himself get lost in the luminous eyes of his omega. His unique heterochromia rendering all shades of verdant and azure…

_Heterochromia?_

Such a complicated word for his omega’s amazingly beautiful eyes.

The doctor smiled, his mind hazy in the warm tongue that trailed a most delicious line along his neck. The omega arched up against him with a low rumble.

_God that’s good, my Omega…_

_What omega? I don’t have…._

“Oh, hello…”

John smiled down at the naked man in his arms. Looked at the fresh bond mark. He ran his tongue along his canines and the memory flashed through him.

_I have an omega and by God he is beautiful…_

“Alpha?” his omega purred in way that nearly dropped him back to core.

_To core…! Jesus!_

And reality crashed hard onto John Watson. 

John rolled off the naked omega and sat up quickly in shock.

_Oh, holy fuck! I have an omega! How deep did I drop? Does he know?_

It has been very long time since John had lost control like this.

That no one would blame him was irrelevant. Alphas let themselves lose their minds to the wants of an omega. That the alpha equally gives off pheromones to drive their omega to such levels is never mentioned, it is always easier to make their lust the omega’s fault. In this case John knew better – this was all on him. He dug his nails into his palm as Omega Heat tried to work its way into him.

_I was at the door; I should have left._

He knew the omega who writhed so enticingly beside him, who beckoned him as he spread his legs in wanton invitation, slick slowly pooling, darkening the sheets beneath him, the scent calling to John, would never have wanted this.

_Not like this. Never like this. Not ever._

_Oh God, I want him!_

"Alpha" the omega laid a hand on the John's thigh and slid inward, its intent a given and John's cock throbbed in anticipation.

_No!_

_Christ, I've got to get away from him!_

John did not want to do it, but it was the only way. He did what was needed as he pulled the omega into his arms. He could not help running a hand along the pale torso. He forced himself to stop.

_Forgive me, Sherlock. I’m sorry._

“{ _Rest_. Just _rest_ , my omega.}” John kissed the man’s forehead “{ _Sleep_ if you can.}”

Sherlock's lids grew heavy and soon closed. He continued to rock the omega gently for a while after he was sure the omega had fallen asleep. The doctor pulled the covers over the sleeping body, gathered his clothes and quietly left the bedroom.

* * *

 

Sherlock woke up with a start.

_How am I in my room? No! Bastard mated me!_

He groaned at the throbbing in his shoulder to remind him he was a bonded omega now.

Yet it was his only pain.

_Wait. I’m alone. I should not be alone._

_He did not mate me._

He had not expected to wake up alone. He knew he should feel insulted that the alpha did not try to mate him, but the utter relief of not having been touched over rode the slight. He and his first alpha, what was his name(?), Victor – yes, Victor, had not left their first mating for three days.

He pushed the covers back and looked at the partially dried saturation beneath him, looked around the room carefully.

The alpha had been in the room, but had not stayed. He had not mated him, but had flooded him with enough of his own alpha pheromones to override the rejection.

_I have to find more Second Mates. Do a study on differences between bondings. Whoa._

He felt a rush as he stood at the sound of another voice in the flat.

_John. He’s still here._

He dressed quickly in the clothes he did not remember removing and headed for the salon.

The scent hit him hard as he walked down the hall.

_My Alpha is in want. He needs me._

_Oh HELL!_

Sherlock was about to turn back to his bedroom when John spoke.

"You okay?" John turned as he heard Sherlock step to the kitchen door and stop. The need in John’s voice called to him, even as he could see the doctor trying hard to resist it.

"Yes? No? I think so?" Sherlock settled his eyes on the face he was soon going to know well. “I have to become accustomed to you running through me. It feels very different.”

Sherlock noted John’s clothes. He had dressed in a hurry.

_He was undressed? Oh hell! This is bad…_

“You did not mate me?” He started to enter the kitchen fully, but the doctor quickly backed away.

_Keeping his distance. From me?_

“Please stay back Sherlock. I nearly did mate you when I had to flood you to bond. We nearly dropped to core. Well, you fully dropped - I’m still not sure how I managed to get out of your bed room without mating you. You’re beautiful – shite!”

The doctor growled and both men reached out to grip a wall.

_I dropped to core‽_

Sherlock felt as new slick formed in response to the alpha’s presence even as he visibly shuddered at the thought. He realized the truth of the doctor’s statement, felt as that instinct pulled hard at him.

“A part of my _ruthless machine_ as you call it?” He moaned the words as he unconsciously took a step forward.

“Mine as well, I’m barely holding it together as is. I just could not leave here until I knew you were okay, but I cannot get any closer. You're Omega in a new bonding. I am Alpha in it. I still want to mate you,  _badly_.” John's voice held a cadence that gave Sherlock pause. He felt waves of shame and anger and pure hunger flow from the man.

“{Do not push your luck, omega. _Step back_ or I will take you _._ }”

Sherlock stepped back.

John had a slight sheen of sweat, Sherlock did not need to, but a gentle sniff in air was all the reminder he needed of the mini-rut the bonding had forced on the alpha as it had forced a mini-heat on him. They were both fighting dropping to the core natures of their secondary genders. 

_Do not push your luck, omega._

Sherlock bristled at the words even as he understood the common sense in heeding them as he fought with himself to let loose.

_Oh bloody hell!_

_I was in no condition to reject him – I know this. He had me naked, I was dripping! He could have mated me, blamed it all on the bonding. He said he nearly dropped to core himself and yet he would not mate me as his right. He, knows I don’t want this, to mate me like that would have been rape. It got a lot closer than he wants to admit and he’s partially ashamed._

_I was the one that said_ strong moral fiber _of him._

"Sherlock, I need to go and have a long talk with my wife.” John said after a few moments of silence.

“Understood. Tomorrow at half three, then?” Sherlock said from the hall, still not trusting the alpha or himself enough to come closer. “And thank you, John. Thank you.”

“Yes, half three tomorrow.” He confirmed with a short nod. “You’re welcome.”

John turned for the door, but stopped.

“Look Sherlock, I can't make very many promises between us. We just don’t know each other well enough that I feel equipped to keep at this moment, but here is one: as long as I live you live. You are mine. You are safe. We’re bonded. Eventually you’re going to learn… things. Some I am not proud of. Where Alpha leads… Understood?”

The doctor has secrets? I am his. Should I learn them, I cannot disclose them.

“Where Alpha leads, Second Mate follows. Understood.” Sherlock responded as with a nod John took his leave at last.

Sherlock locked his doors and made his way back to his bedroom just as his mobile rang.

_Mycroft. Of course._

“Yes, I will live, Brother Mine. Now let’s figure out how.”


	14. Knuckle Dragging Admiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I imagine with his brilliancy comes his arrogance.” John addressed Mycroft.  
> “It is a full-time occupation, yes.” Mycroft conceded. “I have never been able to correct it. That honor will now be yours.”  
> Sherlock barely, barely contained his snort. Though his head was lowered, he knew by the way Mycroft flexed his leg that his eye roll had been noted.  
> “Correct it? He’s not a dog that soiled the carpet, Mycroft.” John frowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Someone gets backhanded - severely.

Mycroft’s face is the epitome of contrition to Mary as he sipped his tea. Only Sherlock knew it for the complete lie it was.

Sherlock watched as Mycroft eyed the other alpha carefully. John was seated fully back in the sofa, left leg crossed ankle over knee. The slight side eye he gave his wife was his only indication of his annoyance, yet resignation at her reaction.

“My exact words to you last night were _The Ancient Forms were used. I claimed him truly_. If you failed to take in the complete nuance of that statement, who is to blame?” John said to his wife as he sipped his own tea. “He is my omega.”

_"He is my omega." Not "He is our Second Mate". Interesting..._

_John made a decision. It is done. He will not gainsay or be harangued about it._

Mycroft must have sensed what Sherlock was about to say. He shot his younger brother a look that all but begged him to keep silent. Sherlock was not having it.

“Last night, I was in no position to deny you. I had dropped to core. It was your right. Maybe you should have taken advantage when you had the chance. Now that I know you are one of the rare alphas who can in fact bond without mating, I expect you to. There was a reason, I never sired before. I live a lifestyle that is not really conducive to child rearing. So in front of your wife and my Alpha Familiar as witness so there is no misunderstanding. You’re an alpha, I know you can, so let me say this: mate me without my consent and I will kill you.”

“Sherlock!” Mycroft put down his cup and saucer, stunned at his behavior, “Watson saved your life!”

“So, my womb is now beholden to him?” He snarled at his brother.

_Watson is letting that go? Interesting._

“Well, yes.” Mary said plainly. “Again, isn’t that the point of a Second Mate?”

_Oh, do feel free to shut up!_

“No.” John countered his wife. “Is it my right? Yes. I can wait for his next full heat and take what is mine. But what will I have? Pups have different needs than beta babies, they live, but do not thrive when unwanted. I will not force motherhood on the unwilling.”

John placed his cup and saucer on the coffee table and stood. Sherlock rose as John came over to him, knowing when your alpha approaches you, you stand. The moment he realized what was about to happen he was powerless to stop it as his alpha backhanded him. He narrowly missed colliding with the mantle as he stumbled before he dropped to the floor.

_He is fast! I did not see that! I want to measure his speed._

“John!” Mary gasped stunned. “He’s omega!”

_He has surprised her. She defends me not yet understanding who I am._

Sherlock held out a hand to stop Mycroft who immediately stood, prepared to fight for his brother. 

“I could be wrong, but I think this is none of your business.” John looked to Mycroft.

Mycroft raised a brow in challenge “It _could_ be.”

“It _really_ couldn’t." John reminded the Alpha Familiar, "He is mine.” The softness with which it was spoken did not belie the power of it.

_Mycroft stand down, please!_

Mycroft saw the message Sherlock silently tapped out. He took a breath, gave John a single stiff nod, but relented.

_You no longer have say, Brother. I am his. I crossed the line._

Sherlock knew John could have hurt him, by alpha rights _should_ have hurt him much more than he had. He had pulled back on the power of the slap. Still, Sherlock saw galaxies spin before his eyes, let alone stars as he looked up at John who waited. The blue eyes that flicked over him were absolute in their coolness.  

Mycroft’s Alpha Rage scent was strong, he wanted to hurt John, badly, but knew he shouldn’t. However, Sherlock did not feel the pull to appease his brother, his bond was to John. You do not threaten the life of an alpha, their pack and especially their children, _ever_.  He gritted his teeth as he fought against the rage scent John could not help but give off that made Sherlock want to grovel to get back in his alpha’s good graces.

_I chose him. He is Alpha and I was in the wrong. I have to deal with the consequences._

Sherlock moved until he was on his knees in the space between the two standing alphas, his body turned more towards John as he bowed his head and waited.

“I imagine with his brilliancy comes his arrogance.”  John addressed Mycroft.

“It is a full-time occupation, yes.” Mycroft conceded. “I have never been able to correct it. That honor will now be yours.”

Sherlock barely, barely contained his snort. Though his head was lowered, he knew by the way Mycroft flexed his leg that his eye roll had been noted.

“Correct it? He’s not a dog that soiled the carpet, Mycroft.” John frowned. 

Mycroft went stock still at the reprimand. Sherlock’s head shot up, then quickly came back down as he blinked rapidly.

_Impossible!_

The move caught John’s attention.

“Why are you on your knees, omega?”  John asked quietly.

Sherlock almost rose, almost. He noted Mycroft’s near inaudible sigh of relief that he had not risen. He doubted John heard it, or if he did, knew it not for what it was.

 _He said_ omega _, I must respond as such._

He closed his eyes as too many memories of being in this position overlaid in his mind.

“I was out of line, Alpha.” Sherlock started.

“ _Out of line?_ That is a gross understatement and you know it!” John snapped.

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Stand.” John held out a hand to Sherlock.

Sherlock blinked at the offered hand, but took it and rose. Mycroft’s eyebrow shot up in surprise.

He brought a hand to his hurt cheek. It felt warm to the touch as blood rushed to the surface.

_Damn that hurts._

_What..?_

Sherlock barely noticed the movement, but he did notice and reacted automatically.

John had reached for Sherlock’s face then stopped, the alpha's shoulders tensed when the omega had flinched away.

Sherlock saw John's flash of ire in it, but realized it was against himself.

_He is upset he hit me. I challenged him, threatened him; he was supposed to hit me. I am confused. Why is he upset?_

“Show me, please?” John nodded towards Sherlock’s left hand that cradled his face. Shame filled his voice as John reached out again, slowly this time telegraphing his intent. 

_He is a doctor after all._

Sherlock lowered his hand. 

John took in a breath and angrily shook his head a little as he gently touched the cheek. 

_He is clearly upset with himself. He did not want this._

“Mary…” John cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder as he pointed to the kitchen.

“Ice … right… got it.”  She nodded already in transit.

“Wait! Don’t open the…”

_Too late._

“What the bloody hell?” Mary exclaimed.

Sherlock heard as the door slammed closed, opened again and closed again. “Are you aware…? No stupid question of course you are aware. John?”

Mary held the door open so her husband could view the contents.

“Good Lord, Sherlock! What do you have in there‽” John looked appalled.

“The eyes are for a case, on which a man’s life depends on the results. The thumbs and the lips are for very specific experiments whose results you are jeopardizing the longer you hold the door open. Now close it!” Sherlock huffed.

John pointedly cleared his throat.

Sherlock glared at John, opened his mouth to speak, saw the alpha’s eyebrow rise.

_Damn._

“Please.” Came through gritted teeth “Those are French doors; ice is in the outer compartment. Opening both doors fully is not necessary for its retrieval.”

“Wow.” Mary had found a tea towel, opened the correct door, pulled out the container and dumped some ice on it.  “Do you think a capture of that expression should accompany any definition of _condescending_ , darling?” She handed the bundle to John who thanked her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Mouth like yours, I’m guessing you have a lot of experience with shiners, so here.” John passed the cold bundle to Sherlock. “Don’t suppose you have any leeches on hand?”

Sherlock winced as he gently placed the bundle to his face. He knows John is being facetious, still...

“I did last week, but that experiment is done. You’re correct, they would have been useful. Pity, that.”

John’s surprise was limited to a shudder of revulsion.

Sherlock’s eyes flicked to the unnatural quiet of his sibling.

_Bastard is enjoying this!_

“I am beginning to understand that you are a unique individual, let alone a very unique omega.” John adjusted Sherlock’s ice coverage. “ _Intelligent_ , fine; let’s give _smart-arse_ a wide berth, ya?”

Sherlock nodded.

“I will say this once and in front of your Alpha Familiar. You are mine now, omega. Remember _as long as I live you live_? I can live without you; the opposite is not true. It would be _unwise_ of you to ever threaten my life again, Sherlock. Do we understand each other?”

That dark terrible thing flashed in John’s eyes. Sherlock saw Mycroft move peripherally.

Three men moved and a woman cursed.

John had Mycroft by the throat.

Mycroft had brandished the sword from his umbrella, the point of which found itself in the flesh under John’s jaw.

Sherlock had reached behind him barely looking as he yanked the dagger that held his mail out of mantle, the point of which was in the flesh of Mycroft’s chin.

“Oh fuck.” Mary, still near the kitchen, slowly stepped towards the sink where she saw knives, just in case.

“Why would you test me like that? You do realize only because I am omega, which makes me slower than you, is the only reason my dagger is not further lodged in your fat neck?” Sherlock slowly pulled back. He looked to John. “Forgive my Alpha Familiar, he had to know for himself that I am yours.”

Mycroft inclined his head to acknowledge the veracity of Sherlock's statement as he lowered the point of his rapier.

“ _That_ was a very dangerous pissing contest, gentlemen." Mary noted as John released Mycroft's neck. “Christ! Can you speak?”

Sherlock had picked up the fallen mail and had secured it to the mantle with the dagger again. All the while holding the ice to his face. He turned to his brother and blinked at the dark bruises in the definite pattern of John’s grip, already forming in his Alpha Familiar’s neck. He immediately poured a cup of the still warm tea and handed it to him. Mycroft accepted it gratefully and took a small sip. John visually examined the elder brother's neck and already concluded he can speak.

“You're fast, even for an omega.” John looked to Sherlock.

_I am not going to admit in front of my brother even I am surprised by that._

“Yes, your reflexes have improved. You did not drop the ice.” Mycroft noted with a hoarse cough as he slowly regained proper use of his voice, he nodded to John “As are you.”

“I heard it more than I saw it coming. Soldier's instinct told me sword before I actually saw it.” John admitted grudgingly. “You're pretty smooth yourself. For a minor government official in Transportation.”

“When did he tell you that? You're still telling people that crock?” Sherlock groaned as he then answered his own question to John, “Never mind, mind palace."

“And I immediately called _bollocks_ on it after the stunts he pulled.” John acknowledged Sherlock’s question.

“God, if you three are quite done with your mutual knuckle dragging admiration.” Mary rolled her eyes as she plopped into her seat. “Alphas! Omegas! God damned men!”

“Actually, Mrs. Watson as an omega and a man, I'd like to speak with you.” Sherlock looked to the woman as he gestured to the door. “In private.”


	15. Tea and Testosterone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So? Do we stand here by the fireplace, whip it out and see whose is bigger or…?” John held his arms out in query.  
> Mycroft rolled his eyes.
> 
> I’ll take “or…”

The two alphas stared at each other as the front door downstairs closed.

“Is my brother safe with your wife?” Mycroft raised an amused brow.

_She looked partially ready to scratch my brother's eyes out. I'd hate to have to damage her._

“I’ve seen him take down Dennison. Is my wife safe with your brother?” John countered.

“My brother is bonded to you. Your wife is an extension of you. Other than in your own hands she is in none safer.” Mycroft sniffed at the insult to his brother, but he knew John did not mean it.

“So? Do we stand here by the fireplace, whip it out and see whose is bigger or…?”  John held his arms out in query.

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

_I’ll take “or…”_

Mycroft turned and got out a solid kick in sending Watson into the chair Mycroft had sat in with enough force that the chair itself moved a few feet. The tea set beside the chair went crashing to the floor. One moment Mycroft stood, a smug smile on his face, he barely the man stand, the next he was looking up at John Watson from the floor, his chest in pain 

_How am I on the floor? Good God when was the last time Mrs. Hudson hoovered in here?_

The doctor’s hands were in his trouser pockets. The soreness in Mycroft’s chest as he tried to get air into his lungs again was the only evidence of having been touched. It was the former army doctor who now smiled, though Mycroft was well aware of the danger behind such a smile.

“I deserved that kick for touching your brother. I accept that. Don’t do it – shite!”

John had just enough time to brace himself before Mycroft’s foot connected. Still, it brought him off balance just enough for Mycroft to flip himself up from the floor. He was barely upright again when he saw John’s fist coming at him.

_No, he’s pulling his fist back. He stopped himself from hitting me._

“I repeat: I deserved that kick for touching your brother. I accept that.” John reiterated, as he put his fists back in his pockets, “Don’t do it again, it would prove embarrassing. More than the tea set will break between us. And in spite of the bond, I suspect your brother may actually have what it takes to try to kill me if I do more than harm you.”

_To try to kill him? Why is he so sure my brother cannot?_

“I rarely see such speed in an alpha. How fast are you?” Mycroft asks instead.

When Mycroft started asking the question he was facing John and the kitchen. When finished he found himself on his knees facing the window, his jacket pulled partially down, his arms immobilized.

_I see. Good._

“Fast enough.” John replied as he stepped away, his hands in the air. “And I’m not paying for that tea set.”

Mycroft rose and straightened his jacket.   

He groaned when saw the tea set on the floor. There were two cups and saucers spared. He looked at the shattered pot – no hope at all for the rest of it. The only saving grace was that it was empty when it hit the floor.

Technically the set belonged to Mrs. Hudson. It was a gift Sherlock and had given her for Christmas many years ago. Because his brother was prone to use whatever was within hands reach when experimenting, she did not trust a thing in that kitchen to use for proper company, that she or Victor had not personally inspected. The easiest way around it was to bring up her own set and take it back to her flat when finished.

Sherlock was being unusually obstinate one afternoon and swung at Mycroft who grabbed him by the arm.  In the rare mini tussle that ensued Mycroft had his brother in a choke hold. Sherlock had shoved away and she walked in the door just in time to see as Sherlock grabbed the pot and slammed it into Mycroft’s head. They were not aware she had entered the salon until they heard as the woman cried piteously at the shattered pieces. The set was from a dearly departed friend from when Mrs. Hudson had lived in the States. Neither Sherlock nor Mycroft ever wanted to see that look of disappointment in the formidable woman’s face again.

It took several months but Mycroft found a replica of the set. The joy on her face as they presented it to her made even Mycroft smile in honest pleasure. That set now stays safely downstairs away from everything Sherlock Holmes. That Christmas Victor and Sherlock presented her with the Ali Miller Tea set1 . The woman was absolutely charmed by the whimsical design and has used it since. She owns three other tea sets, but this was her favorite to use. 

Once, a cuckolded husband, frustrated at the evidence presented, flipped the table that held the tea set. She was not happy. Another time Sherlock was not paying attention one day when he poured acid in one of her cups. He had cleaned it out thoroughly, but when Martha Hudson came to collect the set she picked up the correct cup and threw it at Sherlock and gave him a piece of her mind in the process. Sherlock and Mycroft, who had seen the cup and deemed it okay, swore the woman was part bloodhound and part forensic scientist when it came to that tea set. Thrice now she knew when a piece was broken and replaced, but if it was in fact replaced she seemed okay with the subterfuge of them all pretending she doesn’t notice. Both brothers feared the day when the set went out of production and they won’t be able to replace the parts.

Luckily, today is not the day to see her disappointment.

He pulled out his mobile.

I’m going to need the extra Ali Miller tea service from storage. – MH

Already? It’s less than a year since he broke that last one. – A

My fault this time. – MH

Does she know yet? – A

No, but she will – she always does. – MH

I’ll have it sent over ASAP. Good luck, sir. – A

Thank you. - MH

“So, are we done with this or are we back to the original question?”  John asked archly. John smoothed his blazer over his abdomen with a slight wince. The kick may not have done much damage, but it did hurt, Mycroft took slight satisfaction in that.

_Petty as I know it is._

“I already know the answer. You got dressed over there.” Mycroft pointed to the sofa.

Watson’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the doctor’s eyes never left his. He shook his head with a tired smile.

_You did not take the obvious bait. Confident bastard, aren’t you?_

“Let me be clear: you are not to bug my home, Mycroft Holmes. And now that I know you can, I will find them.” his eyes went directly to the hidden camera in the bookshelf.

_That one is easy. No, you will not._

“You saw Sherlock in my car. You saw me in here. Yet you did not know he came to me before I told you he was mine. You did not see us take vows in the Ancient Forms though we were outside for a good half hour. He knows how to hide from you when he wants to. What I don’t find, I’m sure your brother will.” John finished, his eyes flicked to the camera in the ceiling light and the one over the stained glass of the sliding kitchen doors.

_Very confident bastard._

Mycroft gestured to Sherlock’s chair while he went to the kitchen for the broom and dust bin. John picked up the still usable pieces placing them on the kitchen table then took the seat.

“Suffice it to say, I’ve had very little time to have you investigated. Though what I’ve found is pretty straightforward.” Mycroft moved the side table and swept the smaller ceramic pieces.

“Huh.” John sniffed non-committedly. “You investigated me, my wife and likely my sister and her spouse as well. So, when do I get I report on you Mr. Minor Government Official of Transport?”

“Excuse me?” Mycroft raised a brow.

_He still does not understand who I am._

“I’ve had time to think about it. Last night you tapped into the city’s mass surveillance system, called my mobile and took over my car’s InControl all in less than fifteen minutes. I get it, you were looking for Sherlock and spotted him in my car. Probably spotted him at a stop light. You looked up my information and had it ready to use without any form of oversight.” John leaned forward elbows on knees eyes steady on Mycroft’s, “I imagine the Transport thing is your public front. I’m sure if I asked, you would even have official identification to support your claim. Yet, again I say _bollocks_. I don’t know how high you go, but you are no minor position of any standard departmental agency. You have power and apparently are not above using it, and I imagine abusing it, if it suits you.”

Mycroft’s expression was cool detachment as he begrudgingly had to give the alpha in front of him some credit.

_I take it back, he does have a clue. Smarter than the jumpers he likes to wear at work make him look._

John continued “I understand what you did last night was done out of care for your brother.  He was a wreck when he came to me last night.  He came to me with the Ancient Forms knowing it would shut my wife out. He was desperate, I know this, but he came to _me_. He submitted to _me_. He is _mine_ , his life, his protection is my responsibility.”

“You do not know my brother. His mind is above ordinary for a beta. He’s extraordinary for an omega. And he knows it. Moreover, he wants everyone else to know it. He is a sneak and a liar and…”

“You are correct, I don’t know him yet.” John said interrupted plainly. “I can already see this is not going to be anything near a normal Second Mate relationship. Sherlock has had a year of not answering to anyone. A year of living in a way all alphas and betas take for granted from birth. He is forcing himself to behave in a role he was never suited for. He’s trying to sleep in the bed he made for himself, and it’s already grating on him. I am his alpha, yes, but I will not be his master. Sherlock and I will learn how to deal with each other on our terms. Mary and Sherlock will learn how to deal with each other on theirs.”

_Mary Watson also checks out, so far. She is envious of my brother. Intelligent, handsome and can give her husband the one thing she cannot. She does not know yet Sherlock will not voluntarily breed. It may break her heart anew to accept that. Sherlock was right to take her aside and speak with her privately.  For unlike most alphas he is one of the few of our contemporaries who understands that consent applies to omegas, just as much as it does betas. Watson will not exert his alpha rights on my brother for her._

Mycroft sat back and considered the alpha in front of him. Everything he has learned in the past few days on top of everything he has seen in the last twenty-four hours.

_Watson will not put up with my brother’s nonsense, that has been shown. But he will not abuse him. He seriously regretted striking Sherlock, but he is Alpha, he will not be threatened by his own. He has learned enough of my brother to take that threat seriously and reacted accordingly. Just as he restrained himself from hitting me, he pulled back on the backhand, otherwise I’d be getting rid of two bodies. He has a certain patience for my brother that I have only seen with Lestrade and Dr. Hooper. I suppose that is a good thing. He got Sherlock to say “Please” with nothing more than raised brows and it was not out of fear. That is a very good thing._

_I still do not like him._

“He is your brother still, I will not force him to take my name if he does not want to. I can grant him that much autonomy.” John speaks completely unaware how his thoughts run concurrent to Mycroft’s. “He is Second Mate in name only. He will bear no child of mine unless he wants. And by his own words, I’m reasonably assured of the proverbial snowball in Hell chances of success over mine. However unwillingly, he is my second mate, I will insist that he live with me. Today, not withstanding, I promise you I am not the type to abuse him.”

“No, you are not Franklyn Dennison.” Mycroft conceded.

“Ah, now it makes sense.” John nodded in realization, “I was curious as to how he even made it on your radar. I presume whoever else you had chosen, however untenable they would have been to Sherlock, he or she would have looked like a saint in comparison. Lessor of two evils. And Sherlock desperate with a countdown clock loudly ticking, he would have had no choice.”

“And yet it is very much like the universe to come in and provide my brother with an alternative I never would have chosen.” Mycroft sighed as he sat and crossed his leg arranging the pleat of his trouser leg _just so_.

“I imagine you would have chosen someone you felt you could terrorize with your Frosty the Spookman tactics.” John sniffed, “I accelerated because I did not think you would try to cut off my engine with your brother in the vehicle.”

_I thought as much and you were right. What did you just say?_

“Frosty the Spookman?” Mycroft’s mouth nearly dropped. It took a lot to keep his face neutral, his voice cold, “You do live dangerously.”

 _That was different_.

Mycroft has been called a lot of things both cruel and complimentary over the years. It has been a while since someone caught him truly by surprise. He will never admit to that or that he liked it.

“Your brother thought it was hilari…” John stopped short as his mobile vibrated. Mycroft knew it was his work mobile and something bad from the seriousness of the doctor’s face.

“Mycroft, where is _Killa Kuppa_?” John stood and headed towards the stairs as he typed a response.

Expecting words of a medical emergency Mycroft was taken aback by the question even as he gave John the address. “ _Killa Kuppa Why Don’t You?_ About two clicks southeast from here. Why?”

Hints of _Protective Alpha_ pheromones wafted to Mycroft in John’s wake and he knew exactly why.

_Sherlock._

“Trial by fire, Watson. How many alphas?” He was on his feet immediately behind him.

“Two.” John was downstairs almost to the front door.

_Damn he is fast. No time for pride, Mycroft._

“You’re faster, John. _Go_.” He pulled out his mobile and called Anthea as he ran.

* * *

Anthea had left someone to handle the logistics of compensation for the damage done at the coffee shop. Though he disappeared into his sedan not long after Lestrade and Donovan arrived, they stayed on the scene long enough to see when Watson left with his wife and second mate in tow. Sherlock looked over his shoulder and nodded to the sedan as they walked off.

_He lets go of John's hand within a block._

When they neared the corner, Sherlock extricated his hand from his alpha’s and walked slightly behind the couple. John glanced at the omega for a moment, but nodded and let it go.

_That is the Second Mate’s position after all. The next few weeks are going to be hard for my brother._

“Sir, shall we go?” Anthea looked up from her mobile having noted his quietness. He saw as she glanced at her boss' bruised neck, but made no comment as he had made none.

“Watson handled himself well. He has surprised me. He has a violent streak like most alphas that needs watching. He also has a surprisingly kind one.  He could be the making of my brother – or make him worse than ever.”  Mycroft sat back in the seat thinking. “I still want a thorough investigation on him, his wife and his immediate family. Either way, we’d better upgrade the surveillance status to include Doctor Watson.”

“Which one sir?” Anthea stopped typing.

Mycroft knew she knew which one he meant, but Anthea does like to call him out from time to time.

“Just the husband for now. He’s the bondmate, if anything is going to happen to my brother it won’t be because of the beta wife.

“On it.” Anthea started typing again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I reference the lovely tea set Sherlock served Moriarty tea with in The Reichenbach Fall (S2E3). It is a real tea service available for purchase.  
> [Ali Miller "Sherlock" Tea Pot (UK & Ireland Map)](https://alimiller.co.uk/product-category/all/uk-map/) ^return to paragraph^
> 
> No,  _Killa Kuppa Why Don't Ya_  is not a real place. I kind of wish it were with a name like that.


	16. Coffee and Conversation and Head Cracking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary had not unbuttoned her coat. Her fur collar concealed her neck. Sherlock’s scarf and coat collar covered his.  
> Terrance looked at Sherlock, he did not see as Mary’s eyes went momentarily wide, then narrowed dangerously as she realized Terrance thought she was the omega, before going neutral again.  
>  _Terrance MacGregor - Alpha, has made an assumption based on facts not in evidence and the lady has claws, but she does not want me to know. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn’t it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't leave Sherlock alone for a minute sometimes without trouble finding him, can we? It's the 4th of July (a national holiday), here in the US. Thought I'd toss out the next chapter early in celebration - enjoy!

“Sherlock…” both John and Mycroft said in a warning tone simultaneously. The two alphas looked at each other.

“Mary, please. No need to be so formal.” Mary stood ignoring the two Alphas. “I believe a conversation between Spouse and Second Mate away from the Alphas is warranted. Granted little of this has followed any established protocols, but… yes. Can you and I take a walk? If you don’t mind being seen like that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Mycroft sniffed.

“Won’t be the last.” Sherlock shrugged. He took the ice bundle into the kitchen and dumped the cubes in the sink. “Mycroft, when we return, if my flat is in shambles, I won’t be the only one. I will set Hudders on you.”

Mycroft shot him a look that was at first, _I dare you(!)_ , but then became _oh please don’t_.

_That’s right. Thou shalt not mess with Mrs. Hudson._

Sherlock smirked as he walked to the door and assisted Mary with her coat before he donned his own.

“Are you sure you want to leave those two on their own?” Mary looked up as they exited the building.

“No, but my brother, the major pain that he is in my life, is important to me as more than my Alpha Familiar. Unlike most omegas who leave their ancestral pack unit when they marry into another, I cannot cut myself off from my brother.” Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his neck. “John and Mycroft are going to have to come to some form of compromise. He is not like my first alpha. I can tell he will not capitulate to my brother’s machinations - as he should not. However, my brother does not easily accept being told what he cannot do.”

“Sounds like most alphas to me.” Mary sniffed, “But I do see your point with those two. John gets stubborn. When he sets his heels in about something it can be… worrisome. He is a man with a - I won’t say unique world view, for others like myself share it with him to varying degrees. However, the world at large does not – and he is a constantly angry man because of it. Though to be fair, most times when he gets that obstinate he generally tends to be in the right. It is a justifiable anger, it is what gives him his fire.”

_Oh, she likes that fire._

“And what is your fire?” Sherlock smiled slightly to her.

“ _Médecins Sans Frontières”_ She answered without hesitation. “You’ve read my files.”

“I have.” Sherlock admitted.

“I love my work.” She continued, “I love my husband.” 

_That is true for both._

“You came home a few days early this tour. Why?”

“I missed John.”

 _That is true. But there is more._ Sherlock waited.

“I’ve worked in hovels. I’ve seen some nasty diseases. Dysentery like you wouldn’t believe. You help them the best you can with what you have. No matter where I am it is always about the people. We assist everyone, but I tend to focus on the women as that’s my specialty, but also the teens. The teens are the middle children of the family. Most aid will focus on the adults first, because we need them to thrive, so they can help take care of everyone else. Then the babies because they are utterly helpless and next the elderly because they need help and are a different kind of helpless sometimes. The teens often get treated like adults – forced to grow up when they’ve barely had time to be children, if they’ve had time. We forget that they are not adults yet and we need to work with them at their level.” Mary’s face cycled between wistfulness, pride and weary as she spoke of her work. She points to a café and heads in its direction at Sherlock’s nod. “Then there is the whole secondary gender aspect.”

“Half the world still does not acknowledge if they even know of our existence. They know more of the existence of aboriginal people than of us.” He held the door open. “What do you mean?” 

“Alphas males for the most part can blend into the mix and go relatively unnoticed in the beta world. They’re just bigger than average big guys. I’ve met alphas in their fifties who had no idea that they were. I can imagine there are some who will go through their entire lives not knowing their second gender. They learn through trial and error not to knot unless someone can identify them and teach them before they damage beta women.” She shuddered in memory of seeing the results of such damage as they stood in queue. “It’s the same for the average omega females. Unless they have an unusually extreme heat that drives their libido thusly, most accept their slick as unusual feminine discharge and their heats as simply being extra horny a few times a year. It is the rare omega males that are the hardest to work with out there when they express at puberty. If societies in major cities like London who have a clue behave the way they do, imagine expressing out there in third world villages and among betas who don’t know.”

Mary and Sherlock placed their orders. He could tell she had more to say and waited.

“You were born and raised into this. Try to explain omega male biology to a pubescent male who has never heard of alpha or omega except biblically? And even then only if Christian. Explain it to their families? And if there is no comparable alpha? It’s… hard to say the very least. Still, at the core - people are people are people with all our foils and fallacies. We give them hope of life. They give us hope of humanity. And to be grateful because yes, it’s dangerous to our own mental, emotional and sometimes often physical lives, but was always, always so rewarding.”

“ _Was always_ you said? It is not anymore?” Sherlock held their order as she wiped off an empty table, “What has changed?”

“I don’t know.” She took her tray and sat. “I don’t know if it’s an all over sense of I’m tired or it was just that area. Maybe rico? I don’t know.”

Mary visibly looked distress at the thoughts in her mind.

“Rico? Who or what is that?” Sherlock unbuttoned his coat and sat.

“No idea.” Mary broke off a piece of the pastry she ordered and popped it into her mouth, “But the last two or three months before my tour ended there were these whispers, murmurs of bad things happening. It was all _did you hear about that thing?_ Nothing concrete, just bad _things_ and _rico,_ who or whatever, seemed to be the constant.” She visibly shook it off and took a breath, “But that’s not why we’re here.”

“No, it’s not.” Sherlock agreed. “In fact, what I admit to being is a little confused. Your records show you seem to have a soft spot for omegas. Why are we clashing?”

Mary sat back and looked at Sherlock. He could tell she was considering some falsehood, but changed her mind.

“Answer me this: why John?” She asked instead. He had been expecting the question eventually.

“Because yesterday morning I had exactly seventeen days before I committed suicide.” Sherlock said plainly.

The next piece of croissant Mary was about to eat fell from her fingers to her plate. “My God, you’re serious. John said you would, I did not believe him. How can you say something like that so callously about your own life?”

“Because I am a realist to who I am as a person and as an omega. Fratricide would have occurred before my brother allowed me to be carted off to a breeder camp. I made the decision to spare my brother from the necessity of such an action. We did not discuss it per se, but my brother knew it for a certainty. One friend who I could have tolerated and more importantly could have tolerated me figured out my options or rather the lack there of. However, as a beta himself he could not help me by the archaic rules governing our secondary gender. As expensive as it was at the time, my sires paid to have the secondary gender test done when I was born. Paid for it again when I was a year old because I was already exhibiting _behaviors unbecoming to an omega_. From the day I was born society has told me I am less than, even with my own intellect showing that I am so much more. I already live in one type of bondage through no fault of mine. I will not add to that burden by running. Living a life constantly looking over my shoulders worrying am I wearing enough scent blockers. Will an alpha sense me - attack me. That is not living.”  Sherlock took a sip of his coffee.   

_A life of living like that? No. Living a life bred or running, I would not have lasted long regardless._

He realized he was in fact bonded now. He could feel his bondmate within him. He reached and touched his scarf, felt its slight pull against his shirt that touched the bite. A sense of _Safe_ and _Belonging_ flooded him and for the first time in a very long time Sherlock felt himself relax. The depth of the release bore witness to the burden of the stress he had lived under these past months.

He had not realized his eyes closed in the pleasure of it until he remembered Mary was sitting before him and why they were there. Her eyes met his quizzically.

“You ask me why John Watson?” She nodded to him as he continued. “Because I was desperate. Your husband is the only alpha I’ve met that did not automatically treat me like the average simple-minded omega once he realized my second gender. Yet even with his kinder disposition to omegas, his outspokenness for omega rights, I have been bonded to your husband less than twenty-four hours and have pushed him to do this.” Sherlock pointed at his face, “When your husband and I met he told me how the omega body, especially the male omega is a ruthless machine that is programmed to do anything to survive. In spite of my suicide pact, this is me, an omega male in an untenable position, trying to survive with the only option remotely palatable to me. If I married or Second Mated with any average alpha, either I or they would be dead within a week and I would be sent to breeder for the rest of my life. I apologize for the intrusion to your life, Mary, but I am not in the least sorry to live as free as possible.” 

Mary sat back and stared at him for a moment as she took his words in.

“John said you used the Ancient Forms and he claimed you truly.” Mary looked at him thoughtfully. “He bonded you, but by your own words you dropped to core, yet John did not mate you.”

“No, he did not.” Sherlock admitted, “Your husband is an exceptional alpha to resist such. I’m not sure as I am not in my own mind when fully dropped, but I think it was a very close call for him. I’ve yet had time to access my memories of last night for context.”

“Access your memory?” Mary brows knitted slightly.

“This is like a hard drive.” Sherlock pointed to his head with both hands, “One with a security camera always running. Except for when I am heavily drugged, asleep or unconscious, my mind is always recording information if you will. I have what I call a mind palace. It’s a memory technique – a sort of mental map. You plot a map with a location – it doesn’t have to be a real place – and then you deposit memories there that... Theoretically, you can never forget anything; all you have to do is find your way back to it.”

“So, this imaginary location can be anything – a house or a street?” Mary’s head tilted slightly as she considered it.

“Yes.” Sherlock sipped his coffee.

“But you said “palace.” You called it a mind palace.”

“It’s an exceptional mind. A mind bungalow would not do.” He shrugged immodestly. “Let’s just say, unless I choose to delete something it’s always in there. Last night I dropped to core, but my mind still recorded everything that happened. I just haven’t had time to _review the videotape_ as it were.”

“You remember _everything_.” Mary sat back.

Sherlock sighed “Glance behind you a moment so you can see there is not a reflective surface behind you. Please.”

Mary arched a brow, but looked around and then back to Sherlock “Okay.”

Sherlock faced her, closed his eyes and perused his memory of the room.

“The young lady who served us our order is wearing the same shade of lipstick as the young lady who took our order. However, only the young lady who took our order applied lipstick to her lips. It’s also the same shade on the busboy’s lip. From their behaviors it’s not a ménage. The woman in red coat two tables over at my five - your eleven has a Pomeranian in her oversized bag. Only service animals are allowed in here. She’s trying to keep him quiet by feeding it tidbits from her plate. The man in camel trench coat to my left is here for a coffee first date. He keeps glancing at his phone to the photo of her face from her profile to make sure he had not missed her, however she needs to miss him and run, because he’s married. There are at least three university students. There were five when we entered, but one or two may have left since we sat. The placard in the window by the front door is crooked by 12 degrees dipping counterclockwise from your angle where two alphas sit. Both of whom have sensed my presence, but since I don’t fit the general physical profile for an omega they are still working it out.”

Sherlock opened his eyes and watched Mary as her eyes scanned the room. They consumed their respective food and drink in silence for few minutes.

“There are still five uni students, but yes, the two of the ones who were here when we entered have left. Two more entered separately. Busboy is dating the cashier. Cashier transferred lipstick to the server. I don’t think the busboy knows about the server. I’ll take your word on the woman with the dog and the camel coat guy.” Mary smiled impressed, “You are no ordinary mind, let alone an omega’s mind, I’ll give you that. I’ve never met anyone like you as a beta and as Omega you are even more exceptional. And you help solve difficult crimes as a career?”

“I consult because I enjoy the puzzle of it. The weirder, the more difficult, the better. I have made a niche career for myself as a consulting detective. It is one that I aim to continue.”  Sherlock leaned forward seeing Mary’s expression.

_Oh. That is definitely part of it._

“I realize now that is part of the problem. You are relieved to learn John had not in fact mated and possibly impregnated me. However, you and John were looking for a true Second Mate. You were considering having children, but instead you now have me.” Sherlock finished his coffee.

“When I agreed to a Second Mate, I really did not want to consider the mating aspect of it. John has not been with…” Mary stopped herself.

_Ah, that is the other part._

“ _Once you go omega all else is just beta_?” Sherlock supplied the popular isocolon on omega sexuality, he could not help it as he rolled his eyes.

“Christ, when you put it like that, I feel so incredibly stupid now.” She shook her head.

“Mary, your husband is a good man. He has no interest in me other than to help a fellow human being in dire straits. I have no interest in him other than his helping me stay alive. I am bonded to him, something akin to friendship will eventually develop, but he is...” Sherlock stopped and sniffed just as Mary looked up. He noted she placed her napkin over her unused knife and slid it from the table.

“Hello there. You’re newly bonded, isn’t that sweet.” A low rumble and a deep sniff was heard behind him. One of the alphas from the front pulled up a chair and joined them. “Terrance MacGregor, Alpha.”

Sherlock saw Mary was about to speak. He gave her a subtle shake of his head to remain silent. He glanced at the alpha.

  * 200 centimeters
  * 140 kilos
  * Rhinoplasty
  * Right-handed
  * Weak left knee



“It’s really an ignorant alpha that lets his omega out less than forty-eight hours before a bond has time to fully set. Any disreputable alpha can poach.” Terrance licked a finger stuck it on a croissant flake from Mary’s plate and place it in his mouth. “You’re a small alpha. Don’t get yourself hurt over this, you’ll find another pretty one.”

Mary never unbuttoned her coat. Her fur collar concealed her neck. Sherlock’s scarf and coat collar covered his.

Terrance looked at Sherlock, he did not see as Mary’s eyes went momentarily wide, then narrowed dangerously as she realized Terrance thought she was the omega, before going neutral again.

_Terrance MacGregor - Alpha, has made an assumption based on facts not in evidence and the lady has claws, but she does not want me to know. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn’t it?_

“You really don’t want to do this.” Sherlock looked at his nails, “Especially not here.”

“I could take you.” Terrance rolled his shoulders as he pointedly looked at Sherlock’s face.  “Looks like someone already took a liking to you.”

“I think you would find that embarrassing.” Sherlock arched an amused brow as he tapped the table lightly.

Mary frowned looking to Terrance.

“I don’t think….” Mary started.

“That’s correct _omega_ – you don’t think.” Sherlock smirked, “So do as Daddy says and go powder your pretty little nose and let the men talk.”

Mary barely, just barely kept her face straight as she rose. She placed her napkin on the table without the knife and bowed her head, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t worry darling. A better daddy will be taking care of you soon enough.” Terrance went to reach for Mary’s bum.

_Idiot!_

Mary turned and sliced at Terrance’s hand as Sherlock picked up the tray that had held Mary’s food and slammed it into Terrance’s face.

“Go!” He yelled to Mary already following the tray swing, with an elbow to the nose cartilage.  Terrance yelled as blood spurted down his face.  Sherlock did not look to see if she listened, he had to keep his eyes on the alpha.

Peripherally Sherlock heard as the busboy about to approach them, yelling for them to stop. The cashier stopped her colleague from what could have been a deadly mistake. Betas who unknowing jump in the fray of an alpha fight were always the ones who got hurt, sometimes fatally.

Space cleared around them as customers toppled tables to get out of the way. The scent of spilled coffee and tea mixed in with the scent of pheromones. The bell over the door was a steady jingle as some customers ran out.

_The smart ones._

Sherlock was still tangling with Terrance when the other alpha jumped in and Sherlock felt the hit to his kidney.

_Bloody hell!_

Sherlock had expected it, but that hardly stopped it from hurting any less. MacGregor was the leader of the two. Sherlock knew he had to take him down first.

 A very masculine yell and a very feminine snarl explained why the friend had not tried to punch him again. Especially when that feminine snarl screamed a moment later.

Sherlock turned just in time to see as the alpha friend flung Mary away from him. The knife she had used to slice Terrance's hand stuck out of his friend’s shoulder at an angle that took him a few tries to reach. Mary was clearly going for the tendons that attached the arm muscle to the bone and missed getting the back shoulder muscle instead. With his coat on the small blade only went in so deep. Still, it went in enough and flung Mary away from him to give him time to remove it. Mary pushed off the people she had crashed into ready to join the fray again.

_She’s a brave beta, but still a beta. One that’s going to get me killed!_

“Get the bloody hell OUT of here!” Sherlock screamed at her seeing she was okay. The distraction of worrying about her was not one he needed as he stood between two very angry alphas circling him.

Terrance was strong, but slow.  Well slow for an alpha, which still made him faster than Sherlock liked as he ducked several swings. He knew the key with fighting alphas was not to let any of the hits connect.  At least not more than once and they already had one in. Sherlock was not sure he could make it through another direct hit. Terrance was clearly a fighter used to throwing one of two hits and being done with it, he had little endurance. Even with his speed he was already starting to slow down. 

 _Good_.

Sherlock circled around so that the other alpha was behind him, with Terrance in front.  As expected, the other alpha tried to jump him from behind. It was so easy it felt as if the alpha had leapt into the throw.  Sherlock simply turned, picked him up as his feet left the floor, turned again and used the momentum to throw him over head. The alpha hit the window. The impact did not break the glass, but it cracked.  Unfortunately, Terrance had started to charge Sherlock just as he released the alpha.  A desperate kick to the weak knee brought him down, a second kick to the midsection sent Terrance backwards into the same window before his friend had a chance to move away, the glass shattered all over them. 

It wasn’t enough. Adrenaline fueled Terrance was up quickly about to charge again.

Sherlock grabbed a chair.

_It worked for Dennison._

Sherlock felt the same smugness as the chair connected. He dropped the chair prepared to follow up with another elbow.

He never got the chance.

A silver blond streak grabbed Terrance, flipped him over his shoulder, and then landed a shot to the face before the man landed on the ground outside of the coffee shop.

_John!_

Terrance’s friend started to make a move, but Sherlock was right there. He grabbed the arm of the shoulder Mary had stabbed and twisted harshly behind the back that gave Sherlock leverage.

_He’s an alpha, I can only hold him but so long, but hold him I will._

A gentle tap at his shoulder informed him of his brother’s presence. In a practiced move between them Sherlock let go, his hand barely a centimeter away as Mycroft grabbed the alpha.

“If you know what’s good for your continued health I’d advise keeping your hands off my brother. You see what he is capable of on his own, imagine what the man’s husband will do. And trust me you do not want to tangle with the likes of me.” Mycroft said calmly from right behind the man who in his pain had not heard the alpha approach nor noticed the exchange as Sherlock appeared in front of him.

The friend blanched at the smile that gave the Iceman his name. His fear only increased at the sight of the blond, clearly an alpha, who jumped the broken window sill, picked up Terrance by the coat collar and calmly helped him back into the shop and into a seat.

That is calmly as in picked Terrace up bodily by the coat and tossed him back into the shop where he landed in a chair for a moment before he slid to the floor. Terrance’s face was bloody from more than the busted nose as with a shock Sherlock realized John had broken the Terrance’s zygomatic bone. The right side of the alpha’s face looked partially caved in. He thought of his own cheek for a moment.

Somewhere in the distance a siren was heard.

John leaped back into the coffee shop his eyes roamed until they locked on Sherlock’s as the omega approached him.  Sherlock bowed his head. “Hello my Alpha.”

Terrance’s friend looked from Sherlock to John to Terrance who still moaned on the floor and mouthed _Alpha?_ _Husband?_

One would have thought that Sherlock and John had met up for a casual lunch at the café as the blond alpha took advantage of the moment to give Sherlock a kiss on the non-bruised cheek. “Hey you. Another fight? Last time was one alpha, this time it’s two. Is this a pattern forming?”

“Your husband? _HE’S_ your husband‽ Then that mean that he’s…he’s…”

“My husband.” John repeated firmly, then looked to Sherlock. “Where’s my wife?”

“Here, love.” Mary had already pushed her way through the crowd. Sherlock moved to John’s right side, the non-dominant side. Mary took her place on his left.

John kissed her on the lips. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Your omega husband defended your beta wife quite nobly. I didn’t know he could fight.” Mary looked at Sherlock with some consideration. Sherlock raised a brow to her.

_Yes, you're a doctor, but John is the former army man. I didn’t know you knew how to use a blade in a fight so we’re even._

To say the friend’s jaw fell was truly an understatement. He turned to look at Terrance who had just started to get up.

“Stay down!” Mycroft’s voice whipped out just as John growled. His arms spread out ready to push Sherlock and Mary behind him, prepared to fight.

Terrance saw the dark smile on John’s face all but begging for him to rise. The alpha looked from Mycroft to Sherlock to John and wisely chose to stay where he was on the floor as Lestrade and Donovan walked through the door flashing their respective badges.  

Greg's eyes flicked from Sherlock to John in silent question, he then nodded in silent answer as he understood. Sally eyes widened in surprise as she took a small sniff. Sherlock could see the relief in both of them.

_They are happy that I will live._

He did not want to admit how good that made him feel. Sherlock knew Greg cared, but seeing the depth of Sally’s relief was a revelation. While there was no animosity between the two as Sherlock had with Anderson, and about most of NSY, he still would not have called him and Donovan friends.

_Maybe we need to work on that._

Sherlock nodded his thanks to his brother, knowing their appearance was his doing. Mycroft gave a slight incline of his head in acknowledgement as he pulled out his mobile.

“Oh, did you just have your arse handed to you by an omega‽ A Second Mate‽” Donavan could not hide her glee as she cuffed the friend while Greg went to Terrance. “This one is bleeding, Lestrade, he may need a bus.”

“This one definitely does.” Greg took out his mobile to make the call and looked directly at John’s bloody fist. “What the hell happened here?”

Not one person involved spoke.

“I think that big alpha on the floor tried to poach the woman thinking she was the omega and the tall skinny one was the alpha.” The cashier, an omega female herself, answered. “They both tried to jump him, but I think they got it wrong?” She looked to Sherlock understandably confused.

“You _dare_!” John roared in a voice that chilled Sherlock’s blood. John had moved and pushed Greg aside.

“John!” Mary had started to move, Sherlock grabbed her and held her. He knew she understood what was happening when she immediately stilled, but she had not been able to stop herself from initially reacting.

Sherlock watched stunned as John slammed a fist into Terrance’s chest before he lifted the alpha from the floor. John’s next hit broke Terrance’s jaw. His hand pulled back curved into a claw about to deliver what has surely going to be a deadly choke hold.

“Don’t do it!” Lestrade pressed a tranquilizer gun to John’s neck.

John’s teeth were bared as he slowly turned his head to the cop.

_John no!_

Sherlock and Mary, directly in John’s line of vision saw it. Sherlock saw what had terrified him the night before. There was no blue, nor white in his eyes at all, just a darkness that seared.

“Jesus!” Mary gasped.

_Has she never seen this side of John? I have now seen it twice in less than twenty-four hours. It is no less ferocious._

Sherlock gripped Mary tighter to keep her from moving as a low murderous rumble came from John’s throat.

_John, no please!_

Lestrade shoved the gun harshly into the alpha’s neck. “Don’t make me do it. Don’t make me tranq you, Watson!”

“Mary, please follow my lead.” Sherlock whispered. He let her go and approached John slowly. He had no idea if it would work, but he had to try. Lestrade nodded to Sherlock acknowledging him, but did not otherwise move.

“My alpha.” Sherlock bowed his head to John, the alpha’s dark unforgiving eyes slowly focused on him, “I know you would do this for us. Your wife. Your second mate. It is your right, it is your justice for his attempt to take that which is yours. If you do this it would be a mercy of which he is not worthy. Let them live with what they have tried to do to your family, your pack. For what is left of their days, let them both be _shamed_.”

The cashier gasped. Mycroft smiled a most chilling smile in approval. Terrance’s friend blanched anew.

Something shifted in the dark eyes as the clawed hand turned to two clawed fingers instead, telegraphing his intent. Lestrade gave a short nod and lowered the tranquilizer gun. There was a collective hiss from some of the witnesses when Terrance howled in new pain as John’s clawed fingers gouged deeply in the side of Terrance’s face. 

“For the rest of your life, those that understand will know. You are an alpha who failed. Twice.” John let the alpha fall to the floor where Terrance whined piteously.  The darkness had abated some, his blue iris partially seen again as he looked to Sherlock and Mary and then to Mycroft.

“It is your right. He is yours.” Mycroft calmly stated as he took the arm of the friend from Donovan and brought him to John. It was unspoken between them, but Sherlock understood if John had not taken Terrance down, Mycroft would have. 

John looked to Mycroft coolly. “You are my Alpha Proxy for him. I grant you the right to protect my omega in my honor when I am not able. That one bears my marque, let this one bear yours.” 

Sherlock nodded appreciatively, John meant it in all honesty. It was a just call from the man he now calls Alpha.

Mycroft’s eyes slightly widened in surprise, but he did not hesitate to take advantage of the honor bestowed. A single bloody red gouge appeared before the other alpha could protest.  Once done, Mycroft handed him back to Donovan. The cashier who took their orders passed Sherlock some napkins. He in turned passed them to John and Mycroft.

“You’re the omega‽” Terrance’s friend startled as he looked to Sherlock, still unbelieving.

Sherlock opened his scarf and displayed his new bond bite as answer.

“How the…. Umph!”

“Oops. Lost my footing there, sorry. You okay?” Donovan lifted him by the cuffed arms from his contact with the floor. That her foot somehow twisted to trip him had nothing to do with it. It was an accident of course.

“Thank you for the honor of my defense, Brother Mine.” Sherlock half smiled at the irony of Mycroft being granted the honor of a job he has been doing more than less since the day Sherlock was born. One he knew his brother had fully intended to continue regardless of John's permission. He could see the shared amusement in his brother’s eyes as well as Mycroft accepted the thanks.  Mycroft then nodded his thanks to John.

Sherlock took Mary’s right hand and placed it in John’s left hand. He placed his own hand in John’s right. “I, your second mate, am sated in the honor of our defense.”

Sherlock looked to Mary, who looked at him quizzically before she got it. “I, your wife, am sated in the honor of our defense.”

John kissed his wife on the lips again. Sherlock bowed his head as John nodded to him.

 _“I, Alpha, will not love, but I will protect.”_ Sherlock remembered the vows of the Ancient Form.

_It helps immensely when there is no love._

* * *

The coffee shop, now officially a scene, was closed to customers.

Terrance MacGregor was on the way to the nearest hospital.  Because Glen Winslow – Terrance MacGregor’s friend, was in a heavy winter coat. The knife had pierced, but not deeply. The alpha himself determined his injury was minor. A couple of stitches on-site was all he agreed to, a trip to the hospital not wanted. He sat cuffed to a chair with a Metro cop watching him. A couple of other officers were on the scene taking statements from the witnesses who stayed.

Mycroft had disappeared when his personal assistant Anthea picked him up. A minion was handling the logistics of speaking with the store owner on compensation for the damage.

John sat with Mary who had the alpha sitting with his hand in a bowl of ice. He did not need it, but it made Mary feel better, so he entertained her. Mostly he used the time to watch the fascinating creature that was his Second Mate. He watched Sherlock who was alternately on his mobile texting or annoying witnesses and Metro officers alike with his deductions on their lives. He was rude, seemingly had no tact nor filter. Greg Lestrade, Sally Donovan and one or two Metro officers seemed, if not immune, then less aggrieved by his presence. John realized they were used to the omega’s acerbic ways.

_Ah, he’s bored. An idle mind…?_

A thought which was confirmed as Sherlock plopped down near John with a much put-upon sigh when Lestrade had had enough and ordered the omega to “Go somewhere before I tranq you for the fun of it.”

“Detective Inspector if you’re done with my omega….” John barely kept his face straight. “I think he’s getting cranky.”

“Yes, I know the poor thing must be overwhelmed by all the excitement. After he’s gotten over the shock and has rested, if you can bring him to NSY later or in the morning to complete his part of the paper work that would be great. Such a brave little omega you have there, Watson.” How Greg kept a straight face as he said such was beyond John’s ken. That Sherlock went along with it surprised him more.

“Alpha…? I don’t feel so good. The big men were mean. Can we leave now?” Sherlock’s face was an impassive neutral John had begun to see that was the omega’s default expression. Yet John could sense Sherlock’s sarcastic amusement as he demurely lowered his head to his alpha again. Mary outright snorted.

“Yes, my sweet delicate omega. That broken nail you must have gotten looks scary. Let’s get you home.” John laughed as he took Mary by the waist, Sherlock by the hand and led them back to Baker Street.


	17. The Curtain Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I did not want to say anything in front of Lestrade, but I think there’s something new out there and it’s nasty.” John said to Sherlock before they went through the doors.

Mary was on her way to volunteering her services at a children’s shelter. John had the morning free and was in the home gym working out with Sherlock. By that point, working out meant Sherlock watched John work out as he took notes.

John could not help but smile to himself when Sherlock saw the setting on his bench press and blinked at him.

“I can't even pretend to spot you on that if something went wrong.” was the omega’s sole comment before he went to the treadmill. John had noticed Sherlock glanced his way periodically with a thoughtful expression.

“What?” John knew he would regret he asked it as soon as the question left his mouth.

Forty minutes later John was grateful when he heard Sherlock’s mobile ping.

“Mobile’s pinging.” John picked up a hand weight.

“Keeps doing that.” Sherlock mumbled dismissively as he picked up his pad and pen and walked away as he scribbled a notation.

Really, John did not know why he did this. Did not know how he the alpha was the one crossing the room to pick up something his omega could have reached by simply turning around and walking a couple of steps. Yet, he did just that, not for the first time, and with a sinking feeling, nor the last. He reached the table and picked up the mobile that had been next to the pad and pen. Though he knew Sherlock’s password, they were on the home network, so the mobile was automatically unlocked. Since he fetched it he looked at it.

9:27am 21 Morris Rd, Bishopsgate1 . Need your help. - GL

9:42am Can’t keep them from cleaning up the scene forever. Get your slick arse off alpha’s dick and get over here. - GL

John knew Lestrade was aware of their living situation and had texted that solely to get a rise out of Sherlock. The doctor was not in the least upset. He also knew Sherlock was surely going to make Greg regret that remark in some humiliating way. For now, he kept his face straight as he handed Sherlock the mobile and returned to his weights.

“You’re a doctor?” Sherlock looked to John as he started to leave the gym.  “In fact, you’re an Army doctor.”

“Yes.” John put down the weight at the odd question.

“Any good?” 

“Very good.”

“Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths.”

“Mmm, yes.” He looked to the omega.

_Where is this going?_

“Bit of trouble too, I bet.”

“Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much.” John said quietly as a dark memory flashed.

“Would you like to come with?”

Weeks of living with him and he realized this was the first time he had been invited to join Sherlock _at work_.

“Oh God, yes.”

Sherlock spun on his heel to head out the room.

“Is that allowed?” John asked as he followed him.

“Of course. I’m allowed.” Sherlock headed for his room.

“Uh huh. Let’s try that again.”

John made sure Sherlock asked Lestrade’s permission in his presence, completely surprised when the detective inspector gave it.

<><><><> 

“Sherlock, you do realize you are smiling because someone was murdered. Were you really that bored?” John pulled up at the address.

"No, no, doctor. I quite enjoyed the staid, steady and stagnant existence. In fact, I had considered taking up crochet." Sherlock's smooth baritone was laden with sarcasm, which evoked a snort from John.

"That is probably the most terrifying thing you have ever said to me." John snarked as he turned off the engine.

“And yet you barely bat an eye when you open the refrigerator at Baker Street anymore.”  Sherlock retorted which caused both men to snicker.

“Stop it! We can’t giggle at a crime scene for God’s sake!” John admonished as he and Sherlock did exactly that until they saw the detective inspector’s face.

Lestrade went into one of his rare tirades on Sherlock as soon as he saw the consulting detective step out of the car. Even Sally Donovan looked taken aback for a moment.

“I’m sorry Lestrade. We didn’t hear the mobile vibrate, my omega was working me out.” John sotto whispered to the detective inspector as they ducked under the police tape. “Wanted to know how fast I could do it.”

_No, John did not!_

Sherlock kept a straight face as Lestrade’s jaw started to slacken.

“Experiments. Did you know, John can run and restack the free-weights in the gym from one side to the other in under eight minutes. In less than six if he starts with the heaviest first.” Sherlock picked up the conversation straight faced.

“Oh, you were in the gym working out.” Greg nodded with surprising relief.

Sherlock was not sure why, but he suddenly felt insulted.

A few days after he moved in with the Watsons he came to Baker Street, sat in his chair and accessed his memory of the night he and John bonded. Appalled to review his own wanton behavior having done everything just shy of _presented_ to the alpha, he saw just how close it had been for John. The doctor had in fact dropped to his alpha core before whatever thought pulled him out. It impressed Sherlock all the more that John had rocked him to sleep before tearing out of the room as though the bed was on fire. He had seen what the good doctor had to offer and was grateful he naturally self-lubricated with slick.

_It’s not as if the alpha is not capable._

His eyes flicked over to John then quickly away at the errant thought shutting it down completely.

“Of course, we were in the gym, Lestrade, where else would my omega be working me out?” John frowned at Greg, then winked at Sherlock.

“Oh God, there’s two of you now.” Greg bemoaned as he realized he’d been had. “How badly did I mess up in a past life to deserve this?”

Sherlock winced as John elbowed him, stopping him from saying what the alpha knew was going to be something scathing to the detective inspector.

_The good doctor is starting to catch on to me._

<><><><><><> 

John heard the bearded man in the protective covering groan loudly as he and Sherlock approached the scene.  Sherlock ignored him as he handed John a pair of rubber gloves before he donned a pair himself.

_Someone is not happy to see us, well at least to see Sherlock._

“Christ, I can’t believe he called you in for this. It’s a simple drug OD.” The man sighed loudly.

“No, I am not Christ, Anderson. But with your brain's lack of capacity for thinking outside the bounds of a sweeties wrapper in comparison to mine, I can understand the theological inference to my talent.” Sherlock sniped as he took some sort of leather pouch out of his coat pocket and removed a folding magnifying glass. He tucked the hem of his coat between his bent legs to keep it from grazing in the dirt as he squatted by the body on the floor. Sherlock reached out to touch something.

“Don't mess up my crime scene!” Anderson started to move towards Sherlock in a threatening way when a strong grip stopped him.

“Sorry, instinct.” John stepped back with his hands up before shoving them in his trouser pockets.

“And who the bloody hell are you?” Anderson snarled.

“My alpha.” Sherlock looked up and smiled a smile that hid none of his immense pleasure at Anderson's discomfort as the man blanched at John. “Do be careful. Alpha instinct does not always ask questions first.”

Anderson looked at John and stepped away from the omega.

It took everything John had not to reward the smug Sherlock with an equally smug grin. He pointed at the body on the floor to get the omega back to business.

John stood off to one side as Anderson groused and moved to stand next to Lestrade. They watched as Sherlock touched here and there on the body that laid face-up on a filthy mattress on the floor a of drug den.

“What do you think, Alpha?” Sherlock glanced at John.

“He’s dead, Jim.” John shrugged, not sure what Sherlock wanted. He heard as Anderson muttered something he was likely glad neither he nor Sherlock had heard.

Sherlock shot him a confused look for a moment, then dismissed it.

 _Right. He does not keep current pop-culture references in that brain of his, let alone a classic from_ Star Trek.

John walked over to the body and squatted down on one side with Sherlock on the other.

“Well?” Sherlock gestured.

“What am I doing here?” John asked as he gestured to the body as well.

“Helping me make a point.” Sherlock lowered his voice.

“I’m just supposed to be helping you stay free.” John lowered his voice.

“Yeah, well, this is more fun.” The omega teased.

“Fun? There’s a man lying dead.” John hissed.

“Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you’d go deeper.” Sherlock nodded. 

“Fine.” John carefully knelt forward to look more closely. He touched the body in a few places before he looked across to Sherlock again.

“A male about thirty, a beta, maybe a small alpha. Athletic in build once, but not in a long while, muscle tone gone. A little too clean to be a regular here. Death via asphyxiation. Passed out, choked on his own vomit. Possible seizure from the spread of it. Considering where we are, a drug OD is the most likely.” John concluded.

“Not bad.” Sherlock nodded slowly.

“Got anything Sherlock?” Lestrade asked.

“Male. Former kick boxer. Right handed. Somewhat successful at it, the clothes are not bespoke but well-made, also few years out of style. They fit him once, but not anymore. Yet, he still wears them. Nostalgia? Sentiment? Delusional? More than a recreational user going by the track marks on his arms, but he has not bottomed out for such a place as this, so what is he doing here? There is also a trace of lipstick on his lips, but it has not cracked with his lips.”

“Someone kissed him post mortem? And recently?” John grimaced in distaste as he looked down again and saw the traces of what Sherlock saw.

“Yes, they leaned over from your side of him, going by the placement.” 

“Regret?”

“Perhaps, but not enough to risk being found with a dead body wherever he died originally.”

John squinted at the dead man’s right arm and lifted it.

“What is it?” Greg walked over and looked over John’s shoulder.

“Not sure.” John held out his hand not looking up, “Sherlock, your magnifier?”

Sherlock sniffed slightly as he pulled out the magnifier to examine the arm himself as John held it aloft.

“Really?” The doctor looked at him annoyed.

Sherlock smirked, then looked up at John.

“Really.” He handed the magnifier to John and nodded. “Good catch, Doctor.”

John pressed his lips together tight. He suspected to Greg it looked like John was suppressing his annoyance, but John knew Sherlock saw how he flushed slightly at the compliment.

“Hey, you two remember there is an actual detective inspector in the room?” Greg waved his arms as if hoisting semaphore flags. “You know, the bloke here who can make actual _arrests_?”

“Are you doing the YMCA?” John looked up at Lestrade as though confused. He was rewarded when Sherlock’s eyes slightly widened in his otherwise neutral expression.

It took everything John had to keep a straight face as Anderson snorted then turned his head quickly to cough as a cover, but Lestrade was neither fooled, nor amused.

“That arrest can begin with yours!” Lestrade rolled his eyes at the two of them. “Talk to me.”

“Fine. The puncture, it’s not one needle. It’s two puncture holes very close together.” John showed him the wounds. “Only toxicology is going to be able to figure out if it is two different substances and how they interact.”

“In the meantime, I think we’re done here. He was dropped here by someone sloppy. Find out who he is, and you can find out where he’s been and make an arrest from there, Giles. This is hardly worth my time.” Sherlock stood and started to remove his rubber gloves, John followed suit.

“I did not want to say anything in front of Lestrade, but I think there’s something new out there and it’s potentially nasty.” John stopped Sherlock before they went through the door to the street. “I’m also pretty sure I’ve seen this before a few months ago. An unidentified male OD came into the hospital with the same puncture marks. An omega. A male omega.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _21 Morris Rd, Bishopsgate_ is not a real address. I did not want accidentally to disparage any neighborhoods with a drug den. ^return to paragraph^


	18. Smile In Your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary’s face lit up as she touched John’s back before she left the kitchen. Out of her line of vision, John’s face fell.
> 
> _Interesting_

Sherlock watched from the jag as Mary spoke to a teen girl at the door of the halfway house where she practiced. The girl with her mousy hair pulled into multiple small ponytails, each chalked a different color gave a rainbow Mohawk effect, without the shaved sides. The girl seemed churlish at first, but within a few minutes she was smiling. Mary patted the girl on the arm and walked away. The girl continued to smile as she went on her way, but Mary's smile left as soon as the girl was out of view.

He honked the horn to get Mary's attention. She turned to the sound - her face at first curious, then smiling as she recognized John’s car, then slowly antagonistic as she saw Sherlock in the driver’s seat.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She walked up to the vehicle. “John was supposed to meet me for dinner.”

“You left your mobile at the house.” Sherlock reached into a pocket and handed it to her, “John’s office texted me. He was called in to help on some emergency surgery1. He asked me to come get the Jag and pick you up. He’ll take a taxi home later.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Mary sighed as she opened the passenger door and climbed in, “An evening with you, how delightful! At least when I open my fridge to scrounge up something it won’t make me want to toss up something first. Take me to Marks & Spencer2 on Edgware first.”

Sherlock kept his eyes forward and did nothing, said nothing.

“Well?” Mary glared at him after a long silent moment.

John and Sherlock had decided, at least when they were in public together, Sherlock would play the role of Second Mate to the best of his ability. Thankfully, _the best of his ability_ was up to Sherlock’s interpretation.

_We’re alone in the car Mrs. Watson and not in the public. Work it out. Or take a taxi. I care not._

It was another long moment before she sighed annoyed.

“Can you take me to the Marks and Spencer on Edgware first, _please?_ ”

Satisfied, he kept his eyes on the road as he pulled off.

<><><><><><> 

“Oh, you’re right, dear, that is such a waste.”

“It really is. And we’re stuck with him.”

_Oh, here we go again._

Sherlock inwardly groaned as he recognized Emelia DeBarron’s nasal tones a row away as she chatted with Mary.

There were the nouveau riche people who have some power, and/or some fame. Most superstar athletes, entertainers and people in tech who made names for themselves fell into this category. There are parvenu elite, like John, who have worked hard for their wealth and hold some prestige and clout. When you see them, you know they are not the commonwealth, but they are only known within their circles. The elite are the former parvenu elite families who managed to keep their wealth and prestige for generations, but still are not considered Old Money Elite. Old Money are the Elite families who have kept their wealth and power can trace their lineage hundreds of years. Many of the UK aristocrats fall into this category. Most of the world know and understand their existence. Yet even among them are The Pack Elite. The Pack Elite families are Alpha/Omega families who can trace their family lines as far back as the 7th Century when the first known documents that proved existence of Alpha and Omega families living hidden in plain sight were discovered. The DeBarron family, like the Holmes family were among the very few who could make and prove such a claim. Technically, his brother is Lord Mycroft Alexander David Holmes, 31st Baron de Musgrave. John gave Sherlock grief for days when Lestrade in a fit of ire sarcastically addressed the consulting detective as _Lord Holmes_ , then discovered its veracity.

Emelia DeBarron was one of those in The Elite who wanted to feel she was 'one of the people'. She found it sporting to do her own grocery shopping from time to time. She has a personal chef and kitchen staff who would prefer she did not waste her time with such. Especially, as rumor has it, the staff generally bins half of the produce purchased by the woman.

One of her domestics stood half an aisle away as Emelia talked to Mary. Enough to give the illusion of not eavesdropping, yet always close that Emelia barely had to raise her voice when called. Sherlock had learned that oh so cheeky balance at six years of age watching the domestics at home. He used it to eavesdrop on their conversation on the other side of the aisle, after he retrieved what was now the fifth grocery item Mary managed to _just remember_ she wanted that was on the other side of the store from their location wherever that location was at the time.

“I mean, the looks of him! I bet he and John would make such beautiful litters. They’re both so handsome. Are you sure you can’t convince John to invoke his Alpha rights on him?” Emelia sniffed.

“Absolutely not! That is essentially rape and I cannot condone that.” Mary gasped genuinely appalled.

“How is it rape, Mary? Is it not an alpha’s right to make babies as it is a second mate’s duty to bear them? Perhaps our overall population would not be dwindling if more alphas remembered their rights and acted on them appropriately.” Emelia huffed, “After the third litter, our Noreen tried to ask me for a rest. Hah! Milo simply waited until she was in deep in her next heat and utterly desperate. Of course, she begged to have his next litter, presenting her arse like the perfect little omega slut she is. I recorded it to show her. I adore my children and can’t wait for this next set to arrive. We did an ultrasound. It’s triplets! I’m so happy! ”

As an alpha female Emelia is unable to create or bear children. Emelia and her husband, Milo, chose Noreen as Second Mate, within three months of her becoming a widow when her husband died in a water-ski accident while on their honeymoon. Noreen raised as a traditional omega female had little more than primary education. She was brought up to be a trophy omega socialite and little else. She could not survive on her own without a mate. Milo and Emelia DeBarron were a godsend as far as Noreen was concerned and giving them children while she lived in the life she was accustomed was the least she could do for them. She has spent most of the past five years of living with the DeBarron's pregnant. Milo has sired seven pups on the woman, with three more on the way. None of whom will ever call her Mummy for the children of a Second Mate belong to the Spouse and Alpha, never the omega who bore them. 

Milo DeBarron was raised traditional Elite alpha male. He was a part of the old school pack mentality that believed his job was to bring as many pups into the world as possible. He would have been ecstatic back when omega litters used to be a minimum of four or five pups and individual births such as Mycroft and Sherlock's while not unheard of, were not the norm. Over time those numbers have inexplicably reversed. Twins and Individual births are the norm for omegas and as with betas, multiple births - triplets or higher were now note worthy, thus Emelia's excitement. 

Sherlock was all the more grateful to John who had not come near him in that way. Since he was fully bonded and rarely needed to hide anymore, Sherlock had stopped using scent blockers altogether, but still used suppressants to control his heats. To counteract the side effects of prolonged suppressant use – becoming infertile/impotence, erratic mood swings, among other things, it was recommended omega users go through at least two full heats a year. The first time Sherlock went into heat at the house he locked himself in his bedroom and barricaded the door. Already used to the moody detective occasionally locking himself in his room, John and Mary thought nothing of it. Sherlock was at the peak of his heat cycle when in the middle of the night John passed Sherlock’s room on his way to the kitchen for some water. He heard as Sherlock whined and was about to knock on the door when Sherlock’s _Omega Heat_ pheromones slammed into him. Not accustomed to living with his own omega, the doctor was wholly unprepared for the rush as he felt himself to drop into a rut and growled. The omega heard him and instinctively cried out for the alpha. John barely made it back to his bedroom and woke Mary. Hands clenching to keep from breaking Sherlock’s door down, he had to ask Mary to inject him with an emergency suppressant. John slept at the hospital for the next couple of days until Mary called and told him it was clear. They agreed after that Sherlock will spend his heats at Baker Street.

“I am happy for you, Emelia. I just wanted two or three, you know? It would have been nice. I know we can adopt. John was willing to once, but I was the one against it then. Now with his nibs living with us, I don’t know anymore. Also, truth be told it’s been months and I already miss working with Médecins Sans Frontières. They’ve been calling for me, wondering if I’ll come for another tour. If he and I are not having children, then maybe…” Mary sighed, her frustration plain in her voice.

_I do apologize for that Mary, but no, I will not bear your children._

He gave them a moment more before he caught up with them. Mary looked up when she saw Sherlock approaching. “Oh, there you are. Thought you got lost.”

“Mrs. DeBarron.” Sherlock inclined his head to the alpha, before handing Mary the latest fetched item, “Ran into a former client near the exit. Here you go.”

“Former client? You and John still let him work?” Emelia looked amused. “Oh, my Milo would nev…”

“Let?” The word snarled out before he could stop himself as his head snapped towards Emelia.

“Sherlock!” Mary hissed. “Apologize!”

“I’ve done nothing that requires an apology, my mate. Though that can change any minute.” Sherlock lowered his head to Mary, then flicked his eyes to Emelia, his voice coming down hard on the ending consonant.

“The insolence you allow in your second mate! At least make yourself useful and pass me that jar of pickles.” Emelia pointed to the brand she wanted. “I had heard your Alpha Familiar gave you far too much liberty. I see now it must be true. Simone Dennison dodge a bullet, though I imagine Franklyn would have made quick work of putting you in your place, omega! I am so sorry you are saddled with this Mary.”

Sherlock grinned the grin of an angel.

_After all Lucifer was an angel._

“Oh God.” Mary groaned loudly.

_You know you cannot stop it, Mary._

“My mate, isn’t that the marinade you wanted that the other store did not have.” Sherlock pointed at a brand a few feet down the aisle.

“Why yes, it is, thank you.” Mary took the hint and moved to get it.

_Smart beta._

“Of course, you should know.” Sherlock smiled sweetly at Emelia as he reached for the pickles. He leaned in, took a quick sniff and confirmed what he thought he smelled on her earlier. He angled the jar until her fingers touched the glass but had not quite grasped it. “From the smell of things Franklyn Dennison had you saddled just a while ago.”

He let the jar go.

As expected, in the surprise of his reveal, the jar slipped through her fingers. It crashed to the floor splashing her leg with brine. She yelped as she backed away when a shard of glass landed on her foot. Some of it had splashed him as well, but he considered the collateral damage worth it since he wore trousers.

“And there goes that minute. My apologies Mrs. DeBarron, I thought you had a grip.” Sherlock’s smooth voice all but dripped with saccharine. Emelia DeBarron let loose a slew of words no polite woman would ever admit to knowing, let alone yell aloud. Sherlock walked over to Mary who had turned at the drop of the jar.

Mary arched a knowing brow at him and grabbed his arm. “Your alpha will hear about this!”

“Yes, my mate.” He lowered his head to her. His contrition, like Mary’s anger, was as genuine as his apology as they left Emelia DeBarron with a store clerk to assist her distress.

“I started to order you to clean that mess up on principal, but she really had it coming and you gave me fair warning.” Mary said once they were back in the car.

“And it would have proved embarrassing if I dropped the basket at your feet and walked out.” Sherlock shot her a look. "Especially as I had the car keys."

“I thought of that too.” Mary sniffed, "A dream of a Second Mate you turned out to be huh?" 

_Indeed._

* * *

 Sherlock entered the house late one night coming from visiting Mrs. Hudson at Baker Street and checking on an experiment. As John tended to be surly without enough sleep he and Mary usually went to bed around midnight. Sherlock always tried to be in the house before then as to not disturb them with his comings and goings. He had called John’s mobile to let him know he was fine and would be in around 1am. When it went to voicemail he called Mary and spoke with her.

In retrospect, he realized he should not have been surprised.

John and Mary had always kept their more amorous moments safely behind the closed doors of their bedroom. So, opening the front door at a quarter past one in the morning and discovering the naked beta’s legs wrapped around the head of the alpha was one hell of a surprise. All the way up to the point Mary stared Sherlock straight in the face as she played with her nipples and moaned far more loudly than she had moments before as she offered more of herself to the man enjoying himself between her thighs. Sherlock knew it was no accident, the position clearly done to give him maximum view when he opened the door.

He arched a bored brow at her and went to his bedroom, the sounds of Mary’s pleasure followed him until he put on headphones to drown them out.

That was not the first time he had witnessed the beta behave in such a way.

* * *

“Oh, you’re here, good morning. Mary told me this morning that you said you’d be in late. What time did you finally come in?” John looked up from the news he watched on his tablet the next morning.

John was dressed for work, his jumper on top of his satchel.

_But it’s Tuesday, he usually goes in late. Oh right he’s coming with me to the morgue at St. Bart’s before he goes in to his surgery._

“Sometime after one in the morning, remember? We were still…up… at one.” Mary leaned over as she placed a mug of tea in front of her husband. Her dressing gown was loose and a wicked love bite on the swell of her breast was on display.

Sherlock kept his face neutral ignoring her.

_She wanted me to see that._

“Oh right.” John grinned in memory as he sat up, turned and kissed his wife deeply. He winked at the omega as he turned back around and sipped his tea. “How could I forget?”

“Luckily, I can delete.” Sherlock commented dryly. John flushed.

Behind John, Mary smirked at Sherlock as her mobile rang. She pulled the cell out of a pocket and smiled when she saw the ID, quickly answering. “Mark! How are you‽ ¿ _Que hora es aya_?”

Mary’s face lit up as she touched John’s back before she left the kitchen. Out of her line of vision, John’s face fell.

_Interesting._

* * *

 After several months of living with the Watsons, a pattern had emerged. While overall pleasant to him in John's presence, like with the teen girl, as soon as the doctor’s back was turned her behavior toward Sherlock was aggressive.

He thought of telling John, but he did not think the doctor would take him seriously. While it was no secret that Mary was disappointed in the situation, she put on a happy face in front of her husband. Antagonistic Second Mate and Spouse relationships were almost a trope. Sherlock did not want to look like the jealous omega trying to put a wedge between the couple, because that was the furthest thing from the truth.

He knew it was only a matter of time before she did something overt or left for Médecins Sans Frontières. He just had to wait her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marks & Spencer is a chain of stores in the UK that specializes in the selling of clothing, home products and luxury food products. ^return to paragraph^
> 
> Because I confused my dear American beta, let me explain _Surgery_ :  
> Someone having surgery done in both UK and US is a medical procedure done in hospitals. However, in the UK a surgery is also a doctor's office. It is akin to when us Americans say "going to the clinic" or "going to the doctor's office". It can be the doctor's own office in a private practice, or in the case of John, his main office in King's Hospital (there is more than one hospital in London - lol), and a smaller consult room he uses at a clinic where volunteers his services weekly.^return to paragraph^


	19. Inner Thoughts Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No." John shook his head and sighed. “Why am I not enough, Sherlock? Why is what we have not enough? I know what she and I have here is more than I ever dreamed of as a kid.”
> 
> “But this is not her dream, is it?”

“I think Mary is looking to go back out into the field again.” John said to Sherlock as they entered the morgue at St.  Bartholomew’s.

Sherlock stopped mid-step. He barely caught the door in time to avoid being hit with it. He had said nothing to John of the conversation in the market. He was certain Mary had not said anything.

He knew John purposely waited until that moment to say something as they entered the room.

_You want to have this conversation, but you really don’t want to have this conversation with Dr. Hooper present. You know I will remember this and bring it up later._

The consulting detective followed the doctor into the cooler. “Hi Molly.”

“Hey, Sherlock. Hi, John.” Molly Hooper opened a draw drawer exposing a body. “I get Sherlock being here, but why would you want to spend even a minute of your anniversary in a morgue?”

“What?” John looked to her.

Sherlock groaned as he understood. “Six months John. We’ll have been bonded exactly six months later this evening. Molly please, spare the juvenile countdowns for the juveniles.”

_I’m alive and not bred. Considering the alternative, I suppose even a halfway point is just cause for minor celebration. Not that I’m ever telling Molly that._

“Says the man who just specified _later this evening_.” John tilted his head at Sherlock as he put on gloves. “We laughed until we cried at a crime scene, just yesterday, Sherlock. While standing over the deceased, with the new widow in the next room. Greg nearly tranquilized us both out of spite.  I think _juvenile_ is justified. Ignore the idiot, Molly, thank you.”

Molly stuck her tongue out at Sherlock as she handed him some reports. “The toxicology remains baffling. On the surface it seemed like an opiate, which is one of the components, yet there’s also hints of a type of steroid, something that should have bulked up, but they’ve mostly been on the slender side. Then there is a chemical none of our machines can seem to identify and whatever it is doing, I don’t think it’s doing what the creators think it’s supposed to do.”

“Inconceivable!” John deadpanned. Molly grinned.

_As you wish, John. Even I know that one._

“No? I wonder what gave it away. Oh right, the dead body.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

He watched as John hunched slightly over the corpse he examined. His hair more silver looking in the harsh florescent light. It added to the twinkle in his deep blue eyes when he lifted his head and fussed at Sherlock to play nice.

“Yup.” John stood up after a moment, “Same double puncture wounds in the crook of the right arm. This is the third one I’ve seen personally. Regardless of the victim’s dominant side it’s always the right arm. The left arm I would kind of understand, a play of _vena amoris_ , but why the right arm specifically?” 

“ _Vena vires, virtus, vir_?” Molly looked up from where she was working. “Wasn’t that on the right side?”

“Path of strength, virtue, power?” Sherlock translated it from the Latin. “From where did you get that rubbish?”

“Some old wives tale? Or folklore I came across once?” Molly frowned for a moment giving it thought then shrugged, not remembering.  “The path of love was the left arm, but the path of strength, virtue, power came through the right. I only remember it because of the alliteration.”

Sherlock noticed John looked at the beta woman oddly “What, John?”

“Nothing. Just thinking. The majority of the world is right hand dominant, it makes a weird sort of sense it would be considered the side strength goes through. Being ruled by one’s emotions is considered weak by many. That vena amoris is on the left side, the side considered weaker fulfills the counterpoint.” John shrugged as he removed the gloves and binned them. “For every action, there is an equal and opposite…?”

Sherlock mentally rolled his eyes.

_Really doctor?_

“Yeah, yeah… it deals with emotions. I'm getting you don’t like it.” John rolled his eyes at Sherlock.

“And you're not going to like this.” Molly pulled sheets of paper from the printer and handed it to John who moved to sit on a stool at one of the long table to read.

Sherlock knew the results by the doctor's face before he looked up at Sherlock.

 _They ran the test. Another male omega_.

“There are so few of us in this world as it is. And we're being targeted?” Sherlock walked over, took the papers John gave him and read the results himself. “Why?”

“Someone is experimenting on omega males with fatal results.” Molly handed Sherlock more printouts, “I started asking around at other facilities. In the past year there have been four in London, one in Glasgow, two in Belfast, another two in Naples. These are the ones where the facility noticed and recorded the oddity of the double punctures. None on betas or Alphas. We know there are omegas who become addicts and not all clean up like y…Oh!”

Sherlock glared at Molly, then sighed. He took off his jacket and began to roll up his shirt sleeves.

John reached out a hand and stopped him. The alpha’s touch surprisingly warm on his bare wrist. “I know about the track marks on your arms Sherlock. I've seen you. I figured you would tell me when and if you were ready."

Sherlock had not been sure how much the doctor remembered of the night they bonded. From the flash of heat that appeared in those piercing blue eyes that met his before they quickly looked away, the detective deduced John remembered everything as well. He nodded slightly at the alpha in acknowledgement as John cleared his throat and let go of the wrist. Sherlock frowned at the sense of coldness in its absence.

 _John had used his left hand, his dominant hand._ _There is nothing weak in that man's hand._

He glanced at Molly who flushed apologetically.  He gave her a slight smile as he put his jacket back on.

“It's fine Molly, he would've found out eventually.” Sherlock reassured her. “I'm surprised my brother had not...” John made a slight movement and Sherlock groaned. “Of course, Mycroft did. When?”

Molly looked between the two men.

“Maybe a couple of days before you moved in.” John answered. “He tried to give me your history and something about Danger Nights. I told him to keep it to himself. That you’d tell me when you wanted me to know. Except for one, the marks were many years old.”

“What‽” Molly turned to Sherlock, “When‽ Why‽”

“Want to try for _where,_ since the  _who_  and _how_ are rather obvious?” Sherlock sighed.

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes, don’t you DARE make light of this!” Molly yelled at him, her finger centimeters from his face.

John blinked at the vehemence in the slight woman’s voice.

“Yes, John she can be surprisingly feisty, and you don’t want to feel how hard she slaps for a beta.”

John looked at Molly with new respect.

_Oh, don't you dare approve of someone who got away with slapping me as an adult! Well, outside of Mummy. And Mrs. Hudson._

“Think about it, Molly.” He said quietly instead. “Mycroft wouldn’t leave my side. You and Greg were the only ones who called me that day.”

“Oh Sherlock!"  Her face fell knowingly, "You should have come to me or Greg, regardless.”

Sherlock watched as John puzzled it out. He saw when the answered dawned on the doctor.

_The anniversary of Victor’s passing._

“It was a couple of days after. Mycroft was called out of the country. We had had a discussion the night before where he admitted fratricide would happen before he allowed me to be forced to breed. Suitors were contacting Mummy. Mycroft had started pulling dossiers and the clock had begun ticking... _loudly_. And I just needed all the noise to…stop.” Sherlock pulled over a stool and sat near John, “It was the first time in seven years, I promise you. I was so ashamed of myself when I came out of it. I told myself the only way I’d use again would be to spare my brother further heartache. Because I know him. This was not something he would have out-sourced. Mycroft would have killed me himself.”

“I’d give you a hug, but I know you don’t like them.” Molly rubbed the detective's shoulder instead.

He watched as John process all he said. The doctor again reached out, his left hand to Sherlock’s right wrist.

_Where Alpha leads, Second Mate follows. No, he’s letting me know he is my alpha that I can come to him as well when in need._

Sherlock nodded. John let go.

“Do I have to threaten you with a hug too if you do something that stupid again, omega?” John teased, loosening the tension that hung in the air, but there was a certain steel behind it. Sherlock already deduced John had a zero-tolerance policy for drug use. The doctor nearly had a conniption to learn he occasionally smoked.

“I don't think you would like my response, alpha.” Sherlock teased back. “Well! This is intriguing, but don’t you have patients to care for?”

“Ooh, smooth segue there omega, but you’re right, I do. Can we keep these printouts, Molly?” John held up some of the printouts as he looked at his watch.  

“Sure John.” Molly went to close the drawer on the unidentified male. “I’ll send you both the e-copies of what I have and anything new that comes up.”

<><>

“How do you feel about that?” Sherlock asked as they left the morgue, picking up where they had left off earlier.

John looked to him quizzically.

“About Mary going out into the field again?” Sherlock clarified.

“Honestly, I'm not sure.” John frowned slightly, “I want her to be happy. To do what fulfills her soul…”

“But…?” Sherlock prompted.

“But...” John continued, “Each time she feels she needs to leave, there's a part of me that wonders… Never mind. Ignore me I’m just being maudlin.  I get this way whenever I get the feeling she's about to leave me for work again.”

John put on a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Sherlock looked to the doctor a moment. The slight frown between his eyes.

“You wonder if it is simply ego. Or perhaps it is the fundamental differences between being betas and alphas?” Sherlock offered.

"No." John shook his head and sighed. “Why am I not enough, Sherlock? Why is what we have not enough? I know what she and I have here is more than I ever dreamed of as a kid.”

“But this is not her dream, is it?”

“No, it never was, truth be told. She enjoys what she does here, but out there...” John he waved a hand to unknown shores, “Out there she comes alive. She followed me to London because she loves me. She leaves because out there is her dream and she loves it. She comes back because she loves me. Sometimes, I just don’t know if it’s enough for her anymore." John sighed. "So where are you off to from here?”

“Ooh, smooth segue there, alpha.” Sherlock lightly tossed the words back at John who half-smile in response, “More research. Follow some leads on a cold case Lestrade has me looking into. Dig a little more into this info from Molly. Try to find the common thread.” Sherlock held out a hand, “Happy Half-iversary, John.”

“Happy Half-iversary, Sherlock.” John laughed an honest laugh as he shook the hand. Sherlock noted how the late morning sun added a sparkle to his deep blue eyes, before the doctor turned and walked to his car.

Sherlock watched as the doctor walked away. His steps strong and sure, even if his shoulders were slightly hunched again.

_Thinking of his wife._

Two women leaving the hospital passed in front of Sherlock and watched the receding form of the doctor.

“Ooh, look at the blond. Really nice arse on that one!”

“It really is. You should see it pantless. Too bad you never will.” he growled.

Only Sherlock was more surprised as the two women jumped when the words fell out of his mouth.

_What the hell was that about?_

He was just grateful John had not heard it as he spun on his heel and walked away.

I know they watched him walking away.  
This is how the sassy beast looked from the front.   
 _You're welcome._


	20. What You Don't Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A patient from John's recent past becomes a part of Sherlock's present as the detective learns a little more of the doctor, but not enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I know some people worry/wonder about such things: As most know I update weekly, usually on a Tuesday. This slow burn is very much a WIP, but its end is not currently in sight. I thought you readers would appreciate knowing I have enough chapters either fully written or partially done to take this story well into the month of October and I am still writing as the muse takes me. I promise this will not be an abandoned tale. ❤
> 
> ~~ The Innerspectrum Management

Sherlock watched as the girl completed her last set of exercises. She was clearly in pain and he felt for her. She knew if she ever wanted to walk properly again they had to be done. Eleven-year-old Vicki Renaud was the collateral damage when a suspect for a bank robbery gave chase through the streets. She had not quite made it through a revolving door when he attempted to enter. Sherlock heard the little girl’s piercing scream as he grabbed the suspect by the collar and threw him towards DI Dimmock who was right behind him for the arrest. The moment the door was moved off the appendage, Sherlock knew the ankle was damaged. The girl had stopped screaming – quiet tears, moans and one well-placed f-bomb when someone slightly less than brilliant inquired if she were in pain were the sole testaments to her ordeal. It was the mother who made more of a racket.

“Oh, if you could possibly cease the caterwauling, I’d be most grateful. After all it is _my_ ankle that’s broken Mother.” the crying child politely turned to her parent exasperated.

Naturally, Sherlock took an immediate liking to her.

He was there through her surgery and visited her once each week when she came in for physical therapy. She had a long way to go, but compared to where she began the girl was much improved.

“Hey, Mr. Sherlock, you made it!” Viki grinned as she made her way to him in her motorized scooter.

“Hello Miss Vicki, of course I did.” He pulled a chair out of the way for the girl “You’re improving nicely.”

“Thank you! Nicely, but not quickly.” She pouted.

“I used to say the same thing.” A young male at a table on the other side of her smiled. He repeatedly squeezed a ball rubber in his hand. “Six months ago, this was broken in three places. The first few weeks are the hardest. I may never have 100%, I messed it up pretty bad, but this is good. You’ll be good soon enough too.”

“Hi Jer. This is Mr. Sherlock” Vicki turned to the boy. “Mr. Sherlock, Jer.”

Sherlock noted the scars on the boy’s arm. He knew _messed up pretty bad_ was an understatement.

“ _You_ messed it up?” Sherlock could not help but ask. “You did that to your own arm? How many times did you slam the door on it? Why?”

“Yeah. Something… Let’s just say something crazy happened in my life and I did not take it well.” The boy looked at his arm, “Wait, how did you know I…?”

“The angle of the scars. You stood with your arm as so…” Sherlock demonstrated with his own arm. He stopped and looked at boy, as the teen’s scent unintentionally gave himself away, “Oh.”

Sherlock stopped at the boy’s panicked look as he flicked his eyes to Vicki. He did not want t5he girl to know.

_Oh, that would be the something crazy he mentioned. He has not grown up with the knowledge. He has not yet learned how to deal with, live with who he is._

Because they are children and are easily entertained by such, Sherlock changed the subject and made random light deductions of the other patients and staff.

“And finally, the aide in the corner, with her patient by the parallel bars. She has sweeties in the left pocket of her uniform.  She’s not supposed to have them, so she’s been sneak eating them. Probably because she has a sweet tooth; mostly likely because she missed lunch. She should be reaching in her packet for in 5…4…3…”

The aide reaches in her left pocket, pulls out a candy and by the time Sherlock reaches “1” has popped it in her mouth.

“Wow, you’re really smart.” Jer giggled.

“He’s the smartest omega I know. He’s smarter than all of the alphas and betas I know too.” Vicki beamed at Sherlock. “You know, the Docwat would like you, he likes smart. Oh, Mother’s back from the loo, I’m off. Bye Mr. Sherlock, see you next week?”

“By Miss Vicki. You most certainly will.”

Vicki turned her motorized scooter towards her mother who waved at the detective. Sherlock nodded to the woman and turned his attention back to one gobsmacked boy.

“You’re an omega?” The words fell from Jerry’s mouth with hushed reverence.

“Yes, I am.” Sherlock nodded. “As are you.”

“But… But you’re so smart!” He really looked bewildered by this. “I was told we’re supposed to be stupid.”

_What rubbish  has this child been told?_

“Only if you choose to believe such nonsense.” Sherlock’s nostril flared annoyed, “Omegas can be just as intelligent as anyone else, Jer. Or just as stupid. It’s not their fault most parents pull them out of school when they express. Uneducated is not stupid. There are ways to learn without going through traditional means of school if one truly wants to learn. An omega should choose to pursue knowledge the best way one can, even if their alpha is adamant against it. Some of our better artists and writers are omegas. There are seismologists and archaeologists who are omegas. Which means they are highly educated.  That is not to take anything from the omegas who are happy being trophies and living the protected coddled life. That is who they are, but uneducated is not necessarily stupid. It is up to you. Before you learned you were an omega, what did you want to be?””

“I tell people scientist, but specifically chemist. Chemical engineering. I know, it’s silly…”

“Oh, it most certainly is not!” Sherlock grinned.

The next few minutes are spent with Sherlock and Jerry get into a lively discussion of elements, reactions, some experiments that had gone horridly wrong and wonderfully right. All the while the boy continues his arm exercises with his physical therapist. Sherlock showed him a different way to maximize flexibility in his arm.

_He is a very bright boy. I really hope his parents do not listen to the stereotypes and continue to let him be himself._

“Vicki is right the Docwat would like you.” Jer said as he finished. “He likes smart.” 

“And what is the Docwat?” Sherlock asked at the odd name as they headed for the door.

“You’ve been nice to sit with me, I really appreciate it. If you’re not in a rush I can show you. I always try to pop by when I’m leaving.” Jerry looked up hopefully. “I think you’ll approve.”

As it turned out, Jerr was correct, Sherlock approved very much.

“Why hello the Docwat.” He drawled as he leaned against the door frame amused.

John’s back was to the door, arms raised in a bunched shirt when it opened and Jer bounded in.

Sherlock’s memories gave him John’s full frontal in all its glory. Unlike the view with Mary that he deleted that same night, he now had a view of John’s broad back he wanted to add to the collection.

_I knew about the shoulder scar. I wonder how the other scars came about. There’s still so much I do not know about him!_

“My, Jerry Lorimar, how your voice has deepened since I saw you last!”

John’s voice was amused, knowing it was Sherlock by the voice and his scent.

Sherlock watched as the man waved his arms in the air, looking for all the world like an inflatable air dancer one would find at a petrol station.

“Bloody shirt!”

Sherlock raised an amused brow as he realized the problem.

_Ah, he is stuck._

Jerry out right laughed as Sherlock walked over and loosened the bunched material. He slowly pulled it down the doctor’s arms, over his head and down his body. His hands grazed John’s sides.

_He really is solidly built._

Their eyes locked as John helped to pull the shirt down in the back. The alpha’s hand rested over Sherlock’s at his waist.

“Um… Thanks for the assist, my omega.” John licked his lips nervously. He ran a hand through his strands, finger combing his hair back into place.

“Yes… you’re welcome, Alpha.” Sherlock quickly stepped away.

“Wait! You know him? Docwat’s your alpha!” Jerry gasped as his head swung between the two men as Sherlock moved to stand by the boy again. “All this time I was talking about him you didn’t say anything! No fair!”

“I did not know until you headed in this direction. I did not want to spoil your fun.” Sherlock tousled the kid’s hair playfully.

“Stop Schlock!” Jerry batted his hands away, then fixed his hair.

John’s eyes went wide with mirth as he threw back his head and laughed.

_I am never getting away from that name, thank you Jerry._

Sherlock observed John with Jerry Lorimar.

The two told them of how they became doctor and patient. This was Jerry's last visit as a patient. He had come to say his good-byes and to give his thanks. He had the boy come over to him and put him through some paces testing his arm which turned into a little rough housing. Jerry laughed when John suggested the same exercises Sherlock had earlier. The young omega truly looked up to the alpha. John had a real affection for Jerry and gave the boy his private number. Sherlock offered his number as well. He felt a slight pity for the boy. He was not elite born having grown up into it. He was learning everything the hard way and he has had to learn it fast. His chance meeting with John has shown him one the best of Alphas. He was going to meet more than enough alphas who were not going to be as nice as he matured.

_I will check up on him from time to time. Make sure he’s doing well._

“Did you know you have the Cahriah’s Kiss?” Jerry asked John as the boy slung his rucksack over his shoulder. They stood at the main entrance waiting for Jerry’s mother to pick him up.

“What is Cahriah’s Kiss?” Sherlock asked as John shook his head in the negative in answer.

“It’s that kind of c shaped mark you have by the crook of your right arm. You’re always in long sleeves or your lab coat. Never saw it before today.” Jerry touched the area on himself in demonstration.

John looked at his arm, “You mean my birth mark?”

“May I?” Though Sherlock already knew what it looked like, he touched John’s muscled arm again to get a closer look. “Interesting.”

“Yeah. Something my great-grand Mum used to say to me.” Jerry continued, “I always thought it sort of looked like a bite, you know? Don’t really remember the story of it anymore and she’s long gone. If I remember I’ll tell you. Hey there’s Mum.”

“You have my number, you do that.” John smiled as the woman approached them.

_Averaged height female, beta, a waitress, did not have a good day, but putting her best face forward. Loves her son. Still worried for him._

Her smile is genuine as she sees John and Sherlock and walked over.

“Mr. Watson, afternoon.” Mrs. Lorimar greets John.

“Afternoon. Sherlock, meet Jerry’s mother, Cate Lorimar. Mrs. Lorimar, my Second Mate, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Oh? Forgive me. My family has clearly lived in a sheltered vacuum. It’s been eight months since Jerimiah _expressed_ and I’m still learning all the terms and rules and stuff.  That makes you an omega like Jerry?” Cate Lorimar looked up at Sherlock.

“Sherlock is a unique human being who happens to be omega.” John looked to him with pride “I am honored he chose me to be his alpha. May Jerry be as lucky.”

Sherlock found himself flushing as John and Mrs. Lorimar continued speaking.

_It was an honest compliment. He knows I chose him out of desperation, yet he meant it._

_I just don’t understand him. I need to fix that._


	21. Tell Me Something I Don’t Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega Sherlock goes about it the wrong way in his pursuit to know more than just the surface of Alpha John.

He'd only known John for a few months now, but they'd already had enough life-threatening adventures together to last a lesser man a lifetime. But neither Omega Sherlock Holmes nor Alpha John Watson were lesser men, which meant that there were never enough adventures to satisfy them. Sherlock had found, he believed, another kindred spirit in John Watson. Granted, Watson would never be able to think like the Holmes Brothers, but John was in fact one of the more intelligent beings Sherlock had met. He took longer to reach the same conclusions as he, but given time and patience, the doctor often got there on his own. This was the closest Sherlock had achieved compatibility with another human being, even Victor. Victor did not mind when Sherlock only consulted from a distance. As long as he stood by the sidelines and watched, only verbally putting in his considerably more than two pence’s worth, his former alpha was fine. He did not allow Sherlock to chase criminals down alleyways. The one time he had, and Victor saw Sherlock’s cut hand when he tripped and fell in broken glass, brought on a fierce argument. It was the first and last time Victor invoked his full alpha on the shocked omega and commanded him. It was weeks before Sherlock would talk to him, but Victor knew Sherlock never forgave him.

In the few short months Sherlock could see that John was becoming, what had taken Lestrade a few years to earn. He was beginning to consider the alpha a true friend.

Even from the first moment they met at the accident, John had not dismissed the detective's eccentricities as weird or freakish like almost everyone else. John had been awed by Sherlock's skills of deduction. Sherlock could not help but be interested in this unique alpha. John seemed to have the ability to bring unwanted feelings back to life again. As that car chase proved, from the very beginning John was the rare person who could make Sherlock genuinely smile, even make him laugh!

Despite what he knew most people thought about his perceptions of human interactions, he understood that being to make someone laugh would not seem like much to most people. But it meant so much to Sherlock. He simply was not used to such from anyone but Victor.He had been tolerated in Victor’s circle of friends. The tolerance ended with Victor’s death. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade and Dr. Molly Hooper were among the very few who somehow broke through his walls to get him to genuinely smile, still, true laughter was only but so often. Surprisingly, Sergeant Sally Donovan had increasingly become someone he would place under the friend title as well.

Sherlock himself had always kept people at arms-length, or rather he made sure people kept him at arms-length. It was easier for him that way. If they can’t get close to him, they can’t hurt him, but not John… Doctor John Hamish Watson was not like everyone else. Yes, Sherlock went to him as a near complete stranger out of sheer desperation. Yes, he was well aware the bonding gave him no choice but to let the alpha in, but John was in. Still, there were times Sherlock felt like he barely knew the former army doctor at times and he needed to _know_.

He looked at the stack of folders on the coffee table. There were not a lot. He certainly had seen criminals with more data. Still it was more than he had expected. It was going to take a good part of the day to truly go through all of this. He should be devoting his time to the omega murders.

“Sherlock, this may be the clinical and fastest way to learn this, but it is not the best way.” Mycroft had warned. “Should he find out…”

“How is he going to find out…?” Sherlock countered taking the dossier. Mycroft threw up his hands.

Between his experiments and Sherlock honoring being at the house before midnight, John did not visit Baker Street often. It was the best place for reading.

 [“Eventually you’re going to learn… things. Some I am not proud of.”]

He sat and looked at the stacks. Military. Personal. Professional.

_Okay, now where would you have the most secrets?_

He picked up the military stack and started reading.

In the next building over, a neighbor was in the demo stage of renovation on their flat. He knew the noise would end in an hour or so, but the noise became daunting after a few minutes.

Sherlock took the noise canceling earphones from the bison skull. “Sorry mate, I know you don’t want to hear it any more than I do, but I can actually _hear_ it.”

He returned to reading the file.

It was not until he saw the alpha at the door that he remembered John had told him he may come by Baker Street after his shift to visit with Mrs. Hudson a spell as he had not seen the _Not Your Housekeeper_ for a while.

Between the noise and the head phones Sherlock did not have his usual warnings of a visitor approaching until he smelled the alpha was near. He looked up in time to see the smile leave John’s face as his eyes focused on the files in Sherlock’s lap and narrowed.

_He knows I’m reading his military files and he is not happy. My brother was right. Damn._

Sherlock watched as John took two strides into the room and snatched the entire file from Sherlock’s grasp. He watched the ire as it steadily rose as the alpha flipped through the pages.

"How dare you!" John exploded, _Enraged Alpha_ flowed from him.

_He is furious!_

Sherlock stared at the alpha helpless, but unmoving, unsure of what exactly he had done wrong. He fought against an omega’s very natural instinct to kneel and appease his upset alpha. Instead he stood, assumed the proper omega position and waited.

_John needs a moment to rein in his temper. Give it to him and he will tell me._

John looked to the files on the coffee table, flipped through a couple of them. Sherlock had the distinct impression were it any other alpha he might be picking himself from the floor. As it was he had almost flinched when John turned to face him at alpha speed and snatched the headphones from his head.

John had caught that _almost_.

The doctor took several breaths before he finally addressed the omega.

"You have no rights to this, whatsoever, Sherlock Holmes. None. What in the bloody hell were you thinking?"

_That I needed to know?_

Sherlock realized John wanted something from him, but Sherlock was at a lost as to what it could be.

_An apology._

“I am… sorry.” He offered tentatively.

“You are not sorry. You’re saying it because you think that is what I want to hear.” John snapped.

“That is true.” Sherlock nodded and realized too late that was wrong.

Whatever John was about to say died in his throat as he glared at Sherlock. It was one of the few times he could not read John and it was always a surprise to him when that happened.

_What is it about this man that throws me off so much?_

“My god, you really don’t…” John shook his head sadly as if just having realized something important.

John sighed deeply, the sudden fury drained from him as he looked at Sherlock.

_He’s not happy with me, but he’s not as furious with me. Furious enough._

"Sherlock, we need to have a talk about...boundaries."

"Boundaries..." He repeated slowly then inwardly groaned at repetition.

"You are aware of the concept, yes?" John frowned, his sarcasm on full display.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

_Ah, he feels I have overstepped mine in gaining access to his files, of course._

"My confidential files, Sherlock, are just that my _confidential_ files. Even you have to understand that if you needed underhanded means to have access to them, that it is perhaps _wrong_ for you to have them?" There was a certain edge to the alpha’s voice as he continued “In case you did not, let me make it clear: my files, my professional life, my military life as documented redacted or not, are not for your clinical perusal. I am not a case, Sherlock Holmes. I am not some puzzle of yours to be fathomed. Do you understand?”

Sherlock wanted to bristle at being addressed like a child, but he cannot help but feel like a chastised child, so it was fitting. He nodded again, dumbly.

“But that was what I was trying to do…” He shook his head slightly waving his hand indicating the totality of the alpha in front of him. “Understand.”

“Now I do not understand…” John frowned slightly.

“I thought we were... friends?" Sherlock ventured, quietly, "And friends...share things, don't they?"

John looked at him for a moment and groaned. He looked more exasperated, than upset. At least not as upset as Mycroft predicted he would be, all things considered.

_Will I ever understand this man?_

"Friends share, Sherlock, they do not take. If you want to see my things, just ask me. If you want to know my thoughts, just ask me. I'll try to be as honest as I can. How were you married and _not_ get that‽" John’s voice steadily rose until he shouted.

With the construction next door seemingly done for the evening, it was suddenly loud in the room.

 _I take that back, he’s madder than Mycroft predicted_.

“Victor and I were best friends as children. He was my only friend really as I could not bear being around other children my age and they could bear me even less. He and I grew up together. Slim, but solid like me. But taller. And a light near ash blond.  We had an affair in our teens, we were each other’s firsts, but never bonded. One day he decided he wanted more than what London had to offer. He went abroad during his gap year, then to study and then to live. Altogether he was gone for a little over a decade. Still, we stayed in contact. We told each other everything. We missed each other, but he and I were both determined to try to live lives away from one another. We tried hard to pretend that we did not have what we had. It didn’t work. He and I belonged to each other in spirit long before it became a thought to lay claim, we just did not want to admit it. He came back to London and the moment we locked eyes when I picked him up at Heathrow we absolutely knew. He proposed at baggage claim. We bonded that night. We married six months later. We never had secrets to learn from each other, never had boundaries with each other.” Sherlock explained.

_Is that not how it should be?_

“I had relations during the time he was gone, as had he. But I did not care for any of them. I have had only one real relationship and it was so easy with him.” He moved to sit in his chair by the fire place. “I’m trying to make it easy for me to understand you and I thought if I knew you better it would be easier. You know how I operate, John, I need….”

“You need data…” John automatically fell into the seat across from him as though dumbfounded as he ran a rough hand over his face. “Not like that, Sherlock. You ask and I answer. Just like I respect your privacy and ask if I need or want to know something or wait until you tell me things on your own, like with the last time you took drugs. You _ask_ me. You don’t go behind my back. You don’t do this…” John waved a hand at the files on the coffee table. “Surely, Frosty had to have told you it was wrong.”

“He had.” Sherlock admitted, “But he says such of most of what I do. I do not always heed. I will destroy the files.”

“And not pull them again in the future without my expressed consent.” John added.

“Understood.” Sherlock agreed.

“So, what did you want to know…?” John sat back resigned.

“Everything about you on paper reads as though you should be a typical alpha, John. Yet you are not.” Sherlock looked to the alpha.

“That’s why you ask. Detailed as some of those files will be, it is all study notes. It will never be the detailed nuances only conversation can bring when you ask.” John pointed out. “So, you want to know? Ask…”

Sherlock looked at John so many questions running through his ead.

_Is it really this easy, just ask him? He did say as honest as he can. That will have to do._

“Why are you so understanding of omegas? What brought out this compassion? How are you so kind to me?”

* * *

John settled in to the chair he had appropriated as his own and tossed the patriotic Union Jack pillow to the sofa.

It was not that he doubted the question of his worth to Sherlock. Months from a literal life or death decision of his fate Sherlock sat there living a life he would not have had otherwise. John now had an idea how Sherlock purported himself with Victor, but in the passing months the omega had gone from an isolating oddity to giving heed to some of John’s opinions. He has subtly been less caustic in interacting with others. Lestrade himself has commented on it to John. When he was not threatening to tranquilize the two of them. In return John got to see him, the heart Sherlock that was slowly revealed in minute doses as John became better at reading the omega’s rather stunted, yet complex emotional palette. John was learning there was so much more to the man that the cold exterior he presents to the world at large. He realized it was his shield as much as his weapon to protect himself.

John steadfastly ignored the tiny voice in the back of his mind that wondered what it would be like if Alpha could in fact love a Second Mate.

“I expressed early, at eleven. I was lucky in that my father’s good friend, Walter, was an omega male. All I knew is my temperature was spiking in waves over a few days. My mum thought I was trying to get out of a going to school until I literally broke out in a sweat in front of her as we spoke. It is similar to how a woman having menopause has heat flashes. I had become sensitive to smell, I was moodier than usual, but as an eleven-year-old male – menopause was not the answer.” Both he and Sherlock sniff a laugh at that, “One touch of my forehead and let me stay home and called Dad. He must have told Walter who came home with him. When Dad popped his head in the door to check on me I could _smell_ Walter. I didn’t think about it, scrawny eleven-year-old me walked up to Walter and pronounced how good he smelled in a sultry voice – Walter’s words not mine – that no eleven-year-old should ever possess and growled at him. Walter would later joke that he was in fear I was about to try and mate him then and there. God, it was embarrassing _.”_ John chuckled at the memory now, but he thanked the heaven’s Walt understood exactly what was going on and explained it to poor John Henry and Marie Anne Watson, his beta parents.

Though they at least had some superficial knowledge of their ilk’s existence before becoming friends with Walt, they were still only slightly less mortified than John, but one highly amused Harry, as the Birds and the Bees and Ruts and Heats and Knots and Slick were explained. Together the Watson family learned John’s place in the world as Alpha.

In turn, it brought Walter’s place as Omega into clearer focus. It infuriated the young John.

“Knowing Walter, I was not raised with the poisonous stereotypes of omega. I learned how Walter was lucky in that his parents wanted him educated and that his alpha loved that he was. This to me proved that the issue is not omegas per se, but the ingrained perceptions treated as some sort of manifest destiny by both sides when that is not the case. I learned to see past them, but I was, and pretty much still am, a minority in the alpha mindset.” John rose to go to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. Sherlock joined him and brought out the mugs that were clean.

“It all came to a head when I was fourteen. My father liked going out for late-night jogs. One night he forgot he was beta and took on a feral alpha who was raping an omega male. Naturally, Dad thought it could have easily been Walter and had to help the omega. Dad was a slight man, he was no match against a small alpha, let alone a feral one in rut raping. He died in transit from his injuries. The omega was brutally beaten and raped, but lived long enough to identify two of the attackers before succumbing to the injuries. My father never had a chance, but it was hinted by the family that the victim might have survived had he been tended to sooner. It made me want to become a doctor and eventually an advocate for Omega Rights.”

“Is that why you have something of an attachment to young Lorimar? You see some of yourself in him.”

“A little. But on the opposite end of the rainbow as it were.” He nodded “I had a little ABO knowledge and was still dumbfounded by information Walter dumped on me. Especially regarding the expected behaviors as Alpha. I won’t lie; it was a learning curve and I have hurt a few omegas as I worked out who I was expected to be and who I wanted to be. Jerry Lorimar had no knowledge whatsoever. He and his family were completely blind-sided by this. Male or female - an omega coming of age when they know not who they are is a dangerous thing. The Lorimars are good people. As I won’t be seeing him as much now that his hospital PT is done, I can only hope that he’ll be okay. That he’ll come to me, well, to us as he has your number as well.”

Sherlock nodded. John knew Jerry had already called Sherlock once already. There were a few omega females, but Jerry Larimar was the only omega male in his school district. While changing clothes after Phys Ed, a group of beta boys noticed Jerry was wearing omega pads and started bullying. There were things only one omega male can explain to another and not for the first time John was grateful for having the omega in his life.

In his admitted biased eyes William Sherlock Scott Holmes has become almost a beacon on what some omegas can be. Yes, John is well aware that Sherlock was well above average. His intelligence placed him above some of the smartest betas he knew. Still, without even trying, by simply being who he is, Sherlock breaks just a little more ground in the mindsets of all he meets and any preconceived omega notions. Granted his omega’s lack of patience for those he finds to be idiots, and he find nearly everyone to be idiots, often grated people the wrong way, but no one can deny his intelligence.

Sherlock’s observational skills have certainly rubbed off on the doctor. John knows he will never match Sherlock or Mycroft at the rate they can glean and parse out data. Still, having worked with Sherlock on a few of his cases now, has somewhat improved his own skills. It has definitely changed how he viewed more of the world, as an alpha, as a man.  

“How much of this have you already read?” John waved an idle hand at the files.

“Only what is in my lap and the stack you took from my hands.” Sherlock admitted.

“How much more are you going to read behind my back?”

Sherlock started to deny it, John knew he was, but he said nothing.

“Thank you for being honest.” John snarked.

“Having seen me naked once you knew the _study notes_ as you called it of my past addiction and my last drug use. When Molly had let it slip that I was an abuser of drugs you said you would have waited until I was ready to tell you. You would have never asked?” Sherlock placed the files in his lap on the coffee table with the others.

“I might have eventually.” John admitted, “Just as when I asked why is it you and Mycroft don’t speak of your father.”

John waited and there it was, the slight pained expression that crosses his omega’s face whenever his male progenitor is mentioned in private. John knows it is a sign of trust that Sherlock lets him see that much.

“See how you reacted there, Sherlock? It’s subtle, but it’s enough for me to know that is something private and to back off. I respect that you don’t want me to know yet, if ever.” John sat forward, “Someday I hope we reach a point where you feel you can tell me. If things come up in conversation such as with Molly and your drug use, that’s one thing – I will ask again. If you are ready then, you will tell me. If not, I wait. But I am not going behind your back to Greg and Molly and the other very few people who have gained your trust to ask them.”

John watched as Sherlock glanced at the stacked files.

_He wants to know so badly. He wants to know me. I suppose I should be happy about that. Lord knows there is still so much about him I want to learn._

“I will not read any more on you than I already have, but I will keep the files locked away. If a question comes up that you feel a quick file read will help as you answer it; then I will access them then and only then. Always in your presence.” Sherlock looks John in the eye finally and hold his stare “I give you my word, my Alpha.”

John felt the sincerity of his omega’s word.

_His omega._

John has claimed Sherlock as his own from the beginning. He has protected him from the first day he met him. For the first time he acknowledges to himself that Sherlock has always been his in his heart.

“I accept your word, my omega.” He holds out his left hand. Sherlock takes it with his left hand and they grasp wrists.

_Where Alpha leads…_

John nodded his acceptance and let go. He watched as Sherlock took the stacks and made room in the locked file drawer he kept in the living room.

It was only as they rode back to the house that John realized Sherlock had called him “my Alpha.”

_He has said my Alpha and not facetiously for once. I don’t think he has ever claimed me honestly in spoken words before._

John smiled to himself at this acceptance from his omega, then he remembered...

_No, not my omega, he is my Second Mate. I have to remember that._

“ _Your heart is yours alone to bear, Omega. I, Alpha, will not love, but I will protect.”_

John choked away the part of his heart that may have wished it otherwise.


	22. I Said Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock chases clues to an interesting club and needs John's help to get in. However, the alpha has serious trepidation once he hears the name of the club.

John watched Sherlock as he poured a glass of red wine for him, then for Mary, both of whom, thanked him. Finally, he poured a glass of water for himself before sitting down to eat. The conversation was lively enough between John and Mary, but Sherlock was barely a part of it. This quieter more subservient Sherlock was an interesting change. One that Mary certainly liked, but gut instinct told John something was amiss.

_For the past three weeks or so, at least at home, why are you behaving like - well - like an omega?_

He caught the man's eye and tilted his head slightly. Those luminous green eyes frowned for a moment, then did a light shake of his head in the negative. John was not buying it. He tilted his head the other direction and raised a brow. Sherlock rolled his eyes and did the head shake a little more earnestly. As much as the omega loathed repeating himself, even with body gestures, Sherlock should have snarked. Now John was truly curious. He leaned back in the dining chair and stared at the omega, who ducked his head under the scrutiny.

_Oh, you don't want to talk, is it? Too bad. I want to know what’s going on in that curly head of yours and hope I don’t regret it._

"Going undercover then?" John asked casually. A dark brow rose knowing the query for exactly what it was as the corner of Sherlock’s lip quirked.

 _Gotcha_!

Mary, not having been part of their silent conversation beforehand looked up and glanced between the two men curiously.

"Something like that." Sherlock answered as he twirled the stem of the water goblet between the index and thumb of his long elegant fingers.

"You're going undercover where you need to behave like a regular omega. Now _that_ I’d pay admission for.” John half-smiled.

"So that is what this lovely demur behavior was all about. Practice?" Mary put her fork down equally amused. “I’m going to miss it when you’re done role playing.”

Sherlock threw Mary a look before turning his attention back to John. “Funny you should say 'pay admission' alpha…”

John had a forkful of food half-raised. He slowly lowered it to the plate.

Sherlock said ‘alpha’ mockingly. Well, he almost always said it mockingly, but this had extra mock.

“What devilment are you up to omega?”

“I ran through all the data on the male omegas that were murdered. There is a connection of sorts. I need to investigate somewhere - it may be dangerous and I can’t go there on my own.” Sherlock took a sip of water.

“Yes?” John prompted nonplussed. He had been on a few cases with Sherlock. This is the of the few that remained unsolved. Eight other murders have happened that they know of and Sherlock is no closer to a resolution. The wall above the sofa at Baker Street was littered with scraps of paper and photos the genius had pinned as he tried to fathom it out. He had not seen Sherlock in nearly a week. He knew part of it was his heat, but it was also the case. John had to insist the genius walk away from it, come and have dinner. To get some sleep and tackle it with fresh eyes in the morning.

“It’s a 100% match on the four from London, three out of the five from Scotland and one from Milan.” Sherlock continued.

_He’s stalling. The idiot genius is stalling. That is a bit not good._

John glanced at Mary, who hid her smile behind her own sips of water. She knew it was going to be bad news as well.

_Oh, this is going to be where I lose it, isn’t it?_

“Sherlock Holmes, spit it out so we can get my denial over with.” John said with a lot more pleasantry than he felt. Something in those verdigris eyes shifted and John knew he was correct.

“I need you to take me to El Enlace.”

John was not sure what he expected from the idiot genius omega, but he damn sure was not expecting that.

“No…”

“The Bond?” Mary translated, as she saw John’s face. “What is El Enlace?”

“It’s a…” Sherlock started.

“No.” John finished, throwing his napkin on his plate.

“But you have a memb…”

“No!” John pointed at the omega, “Do you know what that place is Sherlock? You can’t act that well, _omega_.”

“Yes, I do John. Are you willing to risk my life on that, _alpha_?” Sherlock countered.

_Bloody hell!_

_It is male omegas that are being murdered. I will go mad if I lose Sherlock. He’s been…_

John’s brain stuttered. It showed on his face.

“John?” Mary touched his hand, concerned.

John Watson looked at his wife.

John Watson looked at his omega, who already saw the answer on his face.

 _Shite_.

* * *

  
The ride to El Enlace was quiet. John was not sure how he felt about that. He glanced at the omega who stared straight ahead as John pulled up to park. He was not in his mind palace, just oddly quiet.

“It’s going to be alright John.” Sherlock said after a while, “Whatever happens.”

“This is a dangerous field to play in.” John sighed.

“I said as much and yet here you are.” Sherlock half smiled.

_Here I am, for where else would I be?_

“Look John, I ….” Sherlock took a breath reached into his pocket and took out two bracelets.

The alpha knew exactly what they were.

_Omega property tags._

They were beautifully crafted Cartier type love bracelets. One in yellow gold, with a custom-made dangle in white gold that was for John. The dangle had a stylized W on one side that resembled a crown and Sherlock’s name on the other. A slightly smaller one in white gold, with a yellow gold dangle was for Sherlock. Its dangle had the stylized W on one side and the alpha's surname on the other. The dangles were of divided hearts. Where most divided hearts form a whole when put together, the edges of these were designed not to match.

Another reminder that Alpha cannot love Second Mate.

Even if separated, everyone at the club will know they belong together. 

“I should state that I do not think of you as owning me the way these indicate.” Sherlock handed John the screwdriver that came with the bracelet. “But I realize because of how we came together, we never discussed jewelry. Considering where we were going I thought this was a fair compromise. Mine is to be screwed in place. You’re a doctor and I know you don’t wear jewelry when you scrub in, I had this customized with a clasp for easier removal.”

“They’re beautiful, Sherlock. Thank you of your consideration of me. Can you?” John held out his left hand.

Sherlock nodded and placed the gold bracelet on John’s wrist. John held up the screwdriver and the other bracelet. Sherlock held out his right arm for reciprocation.

“Thank you.” Sherlock shook the bracelet when John finished. They sat in silence for a moment admiring their respective bracelets.

Sherlock sighed after a moment and opened his door “Let’s get this over with then.”

Dressed in black trousers, a crisp white oxford shirt and a midnight velvet jacket, all bespoke, fit Sherlock to perfection. The alpha could not help but admire the long lean form as he stepped out of the car.

_He really is a beautiful man._

John watched as Sherlock walked around and opened John’s door. The man had somehow closed in on himself. The proud stride became less so. His haughty features more open. The being that stepped out of the car was not quite the same one that opened his door.

The alpha stepped out of the car mesmerized by the change.

“Can… can I have my Sherlock back for a moment.” John blinked at the being before him.

“Okaaaay…” Sherlock took a breath and just like that he was back.

“I know we’re not supposed to have rings as Alpha and Second Mate, but we’ve done little that is protocol to the Ancient Forms. I don’t think of you as property in the way the bracelets do. Don’t tell your brother, but I kind of got the idea from him.” John reached in his pocket and pulled out two rings. The same design, one in platinum, one in titanium.

Sherlock laughed nervously getting it and gave John his right hand. The hand on which Mycroft wore a simple gold band.

“You are mine, yet I do not own you. We have created something unique unto ourselves, no?” John slipped the darker titanium ring on the omega’s finger. He gave Sherlock the platinum ring.

“You are not mine, yet you belong to me. Let us be something unique unto ourselves, yes.” Sherlock slid the platinum ring onto the alpha’s finger.

They were standing close, very close. John could feel Sherlock’s body heat. Once they stepped away from the car, neither knew what the night held for them as they investigated. Neither seemed to want to move for the moment.

“You know I’m only allowing this because I don’t want to lose you. I… I mean I don’t want you to die.” The alpha allowed himself to touch his omega as himself as his closed left fist touched Sherlock’s chest.

John had almost placed his dominant hand flat on Sherlock’s chest, before he remembered to close it. The flat hand was a touch for spouses or single lovers only. They both pretended not to notice the almost slip.

“I know what you meant…” Sherlock whispered. He wrapped his dominant hand around John’s non-dominant hand, the hands that bore their personal rings and moved them to rest on John’s chest.

_Don’t do it John. You can’t kiss him like this._

John did not have to. Sherlock brought his lips down instead.

_Something is not right._

“Hey! Take that inside!” someone yelled from an opened window.

_So close and yet so far…_

When Sherlock pulled back John knew it was the other persona who kissed him. The one that had opened the car door. Not his Sherlock.

_His Sherlock._

John did not want to think about the utter disappointment he felt, seeing the now bowed curly head in his role, even as John hardened himself for his role.

John opened another button on Sherlock’s shirt and pulled out the long delicate chain attached to his collar.

“Let’s go, Omega.”


	23. And Here You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega Sherlock and Alpha John go clubbing. But this ain't no country club and it ain't no disco.  
> This is El Enlace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a day early. Just wait ...

Sherlock blinked as John yanked the chain to his collar. It was a small tug, yet enough of one to make his head jerk.

Just as Sherlock had changed personas, so had John. His John naturally gave off a quiet, but certain strength. You sensed the fire, but unless you struck the match you had no idea how hot the flame. This version wore his fire like armor. He exuded _Alpha_. It was who John would be were he to let loose the hold on the morals that keep him in check.

They had parked a block away from the club, not using the valet and in a rental so as not to be noticed if they needed to get out quick. John looked around and saw every other alpha entering the club. Each had their omega on a similar lead. Without even looking behind him, he tossed his end of the chain to Sherlock who caught fluidly and immediately tucked it in his shirt again. He understood and stayed within feet of John, his hands behind his back, right hand over left in proper omega stance, as they approached. There was a small queue. John ignored it heading straight to the guard at the door.

John flashed a gunmetal grey card. It had no markings on it other than the chain link and lock logo etched into it on one side and a Quick Response code on the other. There was grumbling from those still in queue as the heavy doors opened for the two of them. John’s card was then passed to an omega female who scanned it and nodded before handing it back. The door closed behind them.

“Welcome back Alpha Watson! You and your omega can go straight to Primero. Rojo, verde, naranja or blanco?” The omega female greeted John. She looked upon John and Sherlock with interest.

“Blanco.” John answered before she finished asking as he took back the card and pocketed it with barely a glance at the woman. A white bangle was placed on Sherlock's left wrist, then a button was pushed, and the main doors opened. Alpha and omega pheromones hit them. They had been expecting it, but the reality of it is always a force to contend with, at least for it was for Sherlock.

John walked about as if he was not aware of it at all. He walked to a wall and pulled back a curtain to an open room. Sherlock counted eight omega females, all collared as he was, in the center of the floor engaged in some manner of coitus with various alphas. There were various divans and chaise lounges for convenience. All of the alphas there were in some state of pleasure. None of the omegas were. None of the alpha tags he could see matched the participating omega. Only one of the alphas was elite. Sherlock did not recognize the others.

“Rojo – unlike the safeword, you do not stop – you have carte blanche to use the omega as hard as possible.” John explained. “Rojo signaled a bonded omega whose alpha has deemed available for any other alpha to use. Half the time the property owner is not in the vicinity of said use. Those omegas deemed not knowing or having forgotten their place are sent here as a reminder of who they belong to and how it hurts for another alpha to touch. Verde – unbonded omegas are also welcome. They can leave the room at will. You will see rojo and verde tags throughout all levels, but rojo mostly down here. No one pretends this level is anything than what it is. The only rules in here are absolutely no poaching; one at a time unless the tag owner is present; once escorted in, however long it takes, no rojos can leave without their alpha. No alpha asks for anything in this room and no omega can denies alpha, accepting whoever demands.  No rojo omega can say no to any alpha or to another omega if a tag holder will such.”

Alpha rut and Omega hurt and Omega Heat pheromones radiated from the room. Sherlock visibly shuddered.

All bonded omegas intrinsically only want to be touched by their bondmate. It physically and emotionally hurt most bonded omegas to mate with other alphas as their bodies automatically reject the foreign alpha. It is not rare, but uncommon for a bonded omega to repeat the experience more than twice.

One young omega female, no more than twenty, faced the open curtain. She had a collar with two long chains that attached to rings through her nipples. On the collar itself two long black lightning bolts were emblazoned, the marque of her owner. Tears streamed down her face as her entire body convulsed in alpha rejection, even as she moaned while a much older alpha rode her hard.

_In a way this is worse than the illegal breeders._

“This would never be you. You’d kill at least three before you’d be taken down…” John looked Sherlock up and down coldly considering, “…permanently.”

John let go of the curtain and walked on.

“Alpha Watson? Hello!” An older alpha greeted John on the stairs to the next level. “Welcome back. It’s been an age!”

“Hello Alpha Kuller. Yes, it has.” John clasped the man’s arm “Omega, this is Alpha Shawn Kuller.”

_Omega? I forgot we are all nameless playthings here._

“Alpha Kuller.” Sherlock bowed his head deeply to the elder alpha.

Banker. Mid-fifties. Right handed. Married with several pups, one new born. Parvenu elite. Has three cats, two dogs. Cigar smoker.

“I heard you had taken a Second Mate, he’s a beauty, Watson.” Kuller whistled as he visually undressed Sherlock. “You always had excellent taste, will you…?”

“No Kuller, this beauty is mine alone to enjoy.” John put a little warning growl in his voice. Kuller raised a hand in surrender in acknowledgement of the implied warning. Sherlock trembled slightly at the sound of John’s territorial growl, he did not want to think about why.

_That’s right, back off._

“Whoa, almost forgot about that temper of yours. I can’t blame you though. Well, I’m done for the night. Going to collect mine and hose her down before going home. I hope she’s learned her lesson.” The alpha headed down, “See you next time Watson.”

“Alpha?” the question slipped out before Sherlock could stop himself as he looked to John. He was fully open and John read him easily.

“Kuller, a moment.” Watson called the alpha before he was out of view, “I am curious. What did she do to warrant this? In case I want a creative reason, you never know.”

John placed a hand on Sherlock’s head and casually slid it down to where the neck meets the shoulder and lightly ran his fingers over the bond bite. Sherlock took a deep breath feeling John sending him calm vibes.

_He’s afraid of what we may hear and is preparing me. Smart move._

“I had Bennington and Georges over for cigars and cards last night. I lost a few rounds, so Georges said I could keep what little pot I had left if he could have a feel of Inga. I suppose I should have warned her first. Still, she should have realized Georges must have had permission to do such while under my own roof with me sitting there. Instead, when he grabbed her she slapped him. I could not let that go unpunished. Brought her here, rojo-ed her and let Georges have her any way he wanted.”  

Sherlock felt the shift in John’s temperament. Sherlock gritted his teeth as John’s touch changed. It was not the just the omega who needed calming.

“Bonded omega will instinctively try to defend themselves from other alphas. She likely gave no more thought to slapping Georges at the time than I had a moment ago when I growled at you. She protected herself for you and you brought her here, tagged her and let her be punished brutally for it.”  John said quietly. The gentle touch on Sherlock’s shoulder had steadily turned into a vice grip that increased in pressure as he spoke. “All you’ve taught your pretty young wife is to let any alpha touch her whenever or she’ll get worse from you. I suggest you fix that.”

John was on a higher step than Sherlock, the omega turned to him. He knew Kuller likely thought Sherlock had moaned in pleasure, as he grabbed John’s thigh and leaned into the alpha’s body.

In actuality, he leant into the alpha to keep him from going down the stairs and hitting Kuller. It also kept Sherlock from doing the same. The moan was to get John to release his tightening grip before it truly hurt him.

“Jesus, I think you may be right, John. Oh God! What have I done?” Kuller ran off.

“Fucking alpha Neanderthal.” John snarled under his breath as he pulled at Sherlock until they were on the same step and wrapped his arms around him.

“Thank you for that.” Sherlock whispered against John’s hair as he wrapped his own arms around John.

_I know, it’s just for show. Just in case someone comes up the stairs._

“No, thank you, Sherlock.” He whispered “It was just the three of us here on this step. It did not occur to me to ask. You reminded me I am not that alpha I’m pretending to be and at least I could help her.”

They heard footsteps approaching and continued to the next level. John opened various doors and curtains as they go through three of the four levels. The higher they rose the more extravagant were the rooms, the more intense were the games played in them and the more the omega colors mixed and changed. Verde omegas were the unbonded omegas who came to the club with an unbonded alpha. These unbonded omegas, usually young and have not married yet, but sometimes those whose bond had been severed, were free to have dalliances of their choosing. An alpha can ask for the pleasure of a Naranja Omega, but it was at the discretion the owning alpha. These were usually where the alpha and omega swinger couples engaged safely. Rojos, Verdes and Naranjas could be found at any of the lower three levels. All of it against a pseudo Latin ambiance. Sherlock amused John with deductions on the clientele as they toured the place. Still, nothing of use for the case.

Sherlock was both impressed by John's knowledge of the place and near appalled at just how well he is remembered among the older alphas there, male and female. Several had asked if he would showcase again. Each time the alpha demurred Sherlock was relieved, yet each time John is asked Sherlock is all the more curious.

_Just what have you done here, Alpha?_

"We could have taken an express elevator straight to Primero, but I did not know what might have changed since I was here last or what you needed to see." John stopped at an elegant double wood paneled door. "You're not acting particularly thrilled so I'm guessing you’ve gleaned nothing of use yet?"

Sherlock half smiled at the alpha. It's his John for the moment. He's talking about the case, but Sherlock knows it is his way of checking on him. So, he gives the alpha his true self for the moment.

"I’ve gained plenty of information for use, just not for the case. I am fine John." Sherlock reassured him. "Though I suspect that when you and I are truly you and I again we may need to have an even more frank discussion on what it is you think I do and don't know. Let's begin with yes, I prefer men, but I have pleasured women."

John quirked a surprised brow. "Pleasured women, but not enjoyed them?"

 _Very good. John would pick up on the pertinent point_.

“John, I _am_ a violinist; my finger work alone…excels. Let’s just say I have gotten the job done and they’ve _always_ wanted more.” He shrugged immodestly.

John started to say more, then shook his head rapidly and dropped the subject, but not before glancing at the omega’s long slender fingers.

_Now you want to know how they would feel around you. Considering where we’re going – so would I._

"You're right that is a conversation for when we are truly ourselves." John nodded as he shifted, and Sherlock is again impressed by the transformation.

If that is at all possible, he seems larger, more intimidating. Even his eyes seem harder, colder. Sherlock imagined this was somewhat what Captain Watson looked like and had done to survive when he served in the Army.

_There’s still so much I do not know about him._

John waited for Sherlock to shift as well then pulled out his club card and opened the doors to Primero.

<><><><><><> 

They stepped into a small foyer John did not remember the last time he was here. He heard music and voices just beyond a heavy velvet curtain. A naked female omega with a collar that indicated she belonged to the club greeted him from behind a counter. Racks of clothing were behind her.

"Welcome back Alpha Watson. Front gate informed that you were on the premises. Did you enjoy giving your omega the tour?" She bowed her head, but kept her eyes on him.

_This omega has mastered the fine art of looking subservient while addressing you directly. Very nice._

"Yes. I did. Thank you." John had expected the hanger for his jacket. He raised a brow when the female handed him a suit hanger and cloth shoe bag as well. He realized it was for Sherlock.

John realized then, while the Alphas were in various stages of dress, all omegas were naked, even the one simply watching.

“He strips? What have I missed since I’ve been here?” John looked to her.

“Oh, that’s right! You would have missed the Simmons fiasco. Ooh, let me tell you!” Sherlock had raised his own brow at the omega as he gently removed John’s blazer, hung it and handed it to her, “It happened not long after your last appearance here and would have been old news on your return. Alpha Simmons was abusive and negligent. Did not notice his bond had atrophied because his omega played the role well. Played it until Alpha Simmons made her a rojo for some imagined slight committed here on Primero. Simmons had done the same thing to his omega the previous week. It was questioned for what omega rojos two consecutive weeks?  The omega hid a small knife between her arse cheeks and when he went to strip her to be used by another alpha, she stabbed him - repeatedly. Alpha Simmons lived for a couple of weeks before he succumbed. By then she was jailed and then put to breeders. Since then alphas can strip down if they want. However, all omegas must be nude, except for their ownership tags. But I see you’ve got a good omega who already figured that out.”

_Christ! We expected this might happen, but not at the door!_

“Last chance. You don’t have to do this, ‘Lock.” He whispered to Sherlock under the cover of kissing his cheek.

The omega flushed at the diminutive. John had not realized what he said until saw Sherlock’s reaction.

_It really is his life on the line here. Keep it together, Watson._

“For my dearest life, Alpha, remember?” Sherlock whispered in turn as he slipped John’s cuff links in his pockets, then added his own. “Besides, I already knew, John. I expected this.”

John licked his lip trapped in the omega’s sea green stare as as Sherlock loosened John’s tie, letting it hang and unbuttoned the dress shirt to the waist. He ran a slow hand down John’s chest.

_Well, in for some pence…._

John walked over to the club chair he realized was placed there for the purpose he was about to use it.

Like all alphas John takes his privilege for granted and thinks little of it. Yet, every now and then he is very much aware of who he is. John sat, leaned back as he draped an arm along the side of the chair and crossed his leg at the ankle. He rested his face against branched fingers, his lip curled slightly in anticipation.

John knew from the way the female omega reacted to him that he looked every inch the alpha he is. His eyes raked over the tall slim and still dressed body in front of him. John licked his lips and raised his eyes to meet Sherlock’s.

 “Alright then, my omega. Give me a show.” His voice rumbled and he did not even pretend not to enjoy it as he saw his omega react to the power he projected.

The female omega at clothes check gasped. John was not in the least surprised when he felt the first hints of her unbridled desire reach him. She did not try to pretend she would not watch as Sherlock unbuttoned the navy blazer, tugged a little at the sleeves and let it slide from his shoulders. Sherlock shot the female with visual daggers in warning before handing the blazer over to her. John kept a straight face in the blatant _know your place_ move by his omega.

_That was very territorial. Is he even aware he’s doing it? Does it mean what I think it does or is he just in the role?_

With the cufflinks already removed he slowly and with pure evil intent removed the dress shirt. The plain white undershirt he wore clung to him just right. Showing off the long, well-toned arms and torso to perfection.

_Stop thinking John and enjoy the show._

John almost laughed as Sherlock teased him slightly as he eased out part of the t-shirt’s hem before he moved to pull at another part yet with no flesh revealed. That almost laugh disappeared altogether when Sherlock then removed the undershirt in one smooth fell swoop and John openly admired the omegas chest and back as he turned.

“So far so good?” Sherlock teased him.

 _You know the answer. I am_ not _giving you the satisfaction of voicing it._

“It’s all right.” John half shrugged as he maintained a neutral face.

That clearly was a mistake as Sherlock raised an “Oh really?” eyebrow.

_Challenge accepted, is it?_

_Why you crafty bastard!_

He laughed in appreciation as the elegant genius grinned at John and purposely squatted. He maintained an enviable balance as he removed his shoes and socks. Having expected Sherlock to bend to remove his socks and shoes instead of squat, the omega attendant forgot herself and vocalized her disappointment.

John not so politely cleared his throat.

“This show is for me, interrupt again and I’ll have you face the wall for what is left of it!” John snapped.

“Yes, Alpha Watson, my apologies.” She flushed.

Sherlock all but rolled his eyes seeing it for the subterfuge it was and stood again. The cheeky bastard had unbuttoned and unzipped his trouser as he squatted. With barely a shimmy, the trousers slid down his legs to the floor as he tossed the shoes and socks to the counter.

_Christ he’s beautiful and he’s mine._

Expecting something this time from the canny omega, John simply smiled as Sherlock stepped out of the fallen trousers and used a foot to hitch them up high enough to dip forward slightly and grasp them before he handed them in. The female omega silently grinned in anticipation as she hung the trousers with the rest of his clothes.

Sherlock stood before John in boxer briefs, collar and tags. With one hand already in his lap giving attention to his burgeoning erection, John looked Sherlock over with hooded eyes. He made no pretense at admiring the imprint of the omega’s cock straining against the material leaving little to the imagination.  The omega rested a hand over himself in a mirror of the alpha before him.

_You know exactly what you’re doing. You utter beast._

“You know what I want and how I want it.” John barely recognized his own voice as he licked his lips and leaned forward.

Sherlock’s eyes widened at the sound.

_Oh? Liked that did you? I’ve got more._

“Turn. Around. Omega. And take it off.”

Sherlock purred as he heeded. It caught them both off guard.

John stood and snarled in full alpha.

 _“Now!_ ”

Sherlock hooked his thumbs in the elastic to push the briefs down as he started to bend. Before his omega had fully bent over and the boxer briefs hit the floor the alpha had crossed the short distance and shoved his covered erection against the pale arse. The omega moaned with his next breath as the alpha had pulled him upright by his curly head with one hand, then snaked the other around him. Neither noticed as John placed his left hand flat on the omega’s chest holding him in place. The dark curly head leaned back against the alpha as he bared his long neck. The alpha’s teeth grazed along his omega’s gland.

“Alpha.” Sherlock barely breathed the word as he placed his opened right hand atop John’s left and held it for a moment then slowly slid both hands down telegraphing his intent. John did not stop him and took full grasp of the girth as the omega let go.

_Oh God, the scent of the female is nice, but you my omega are downright intoxicating._

Two breaths stuttered as the alpha stroked him a couple of times.

_So, he does not mind an audience? Good to know._

He turned the omega to face him. Sherlock bit his lip as he placed his hands behind him in proper stance in affect pushing himself further forward and John’s smile was dark as Sherlock’s uncovered cock made contact with John’s covered one.

Sherlock bowed his head, but not before the alpha saw the pleasure of getting a reaction out of him. John saw the clarity in the half blown crystalline eyes. His Sherlock was still in there, ready.

John stepped back and let his eyes drink in the vision before him.

_He has excellent control of his slick. I can smell it but he’s not dripping. I wonder what I can do about that._

It might have been a few years, but John knew he had to make an entrance. There were elite and The Elite in the next room. Many were going to know him and his omega on sight. Sherlock knew this as well.

John removed the chain and tossed it to the counter. He would not need it. They had discussed this may be a possibility and the alpha had pushed the omega just far enough. He gently flicked the naked erection in front of him.

“Bastard.” Sherlock rumbled lowly amused.

John shifted, “Ready Omega?”

Sherlock’s eyes lifted and met his for a moment. He nodded and shifted “Ready Alpha.”

“Enjoy Alpha Watson.” The female omega dipped her head to John.

John entered the room and grinned as memories flooded to the very last time he was there.


	24. What Once Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight years ago John decided to have a little fun before he left to serve. Some people are _still_ talking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! An update and it's not a Tuesday? I'm crazy like that sometimes...
> 
> PS: Alpha/Omega sexy semi-public times

_Eight years ago._

Watson entered Primero in with the omega in hand.

Nina Brisbane was a rare tall female omega. At over 180 centimeters she was taller than many beta men and a few of the shorter alphas. In her stiletto heels she towered over John, however it placed her vagina at easy hand grasp. A vagina she swore no alpha could make come by manual labor alone.

She had said that to the wrong alpha.

Nina, an unbonded omega female was a former receptionist at his surgery. She had made her interest in the good doctor known, but John absolutely refused to engage with anyone he worked with professionally. After two years she relocated to a different surgery. They no longer worked together professionally. Three months after her transfer, he invited her to the club.

When he picked her up from her home she left wearing a simple, but well-made wrap maxi skirt and long sleeve blouse under her long coat. He wore leathers under his coat.

“Omega, take off your skirt.” John ordered softly as they waited in queue.

“But…” Nina started to protest when John growled lowly.

“Yes, Alpha.” She obeyed.

Her coat was still on. John watched her face as her eyes darted around to those on line with them. The couples on line nearest watched with interest as she timidly removed and then gave him her skirt. He draped it over an arm as he unbuttoned her coat.

_Nothing yet? Hmmm._

“Hands behind you and you better not make one sound I don’t tell you to make.”

“Y… yes, Alpha.”

John proceeded to slowly unbutton her blouse. Her eyes pleaded with him as he cupped her breasts. A slow blush creeping on her as avoided the eyes of those who watched.

_There we go, but not enough._

John watched her face as he fondled her breasts. Her face flushed as she nervously looked around at the eyes that focused on her as John ran a thumb over the nipple that stood out proudly through the lacy confection she wore as a bra. Nina bit her lip at war with herself. Part of her wanting to cover up and run, but the slow scent of slick laid evidence to her exhibition kink saying otherwise.

Her breath caught, but she did not otherwise make a sound as he turned the bra into an impromptu shelf bra. Her dusky nipples and areolas exposed.

“Look at you. Out in the middle of the street exposed.” John growled as he looked up at her. “You know you should be ashamed, right?”

She nodded rapidly, making her breast bounce with the motion. She stopped once she realized it and made a slower nod.

John blew warm air on the nipples and watched as she flinched and stifled a moan.

“Look at her.” John smirked to the alpha next to him. “She likes it.”

“Indeed, she does, yet she blushes so prettily.” The other alpha looked up at in appreciation.

Nina’s eyes pleaded with John’s.

“Oh, look I just remembered I had this on me after all.” John growled lowly as he brandished his club card.

“You son of a bitch!” Nina hissed as she realized they did not have to be on that line. She did not have to be standing there half naked on the sidewalk.

John’s grin was all kinds of wrong.

He knew she not so secretly got off on being humiliated. She may not have realized it was her kink, but John knew within a few days of meeting her. He was in a mood and berated her for a misfiling. He was back in his office when he realized he scented her slick. A week later a different file was misplaced. He overheard another receptionist comment the file was exactly where it was supposed to be and didn’t get why Nina lied. He waited until she was away from patients before he made an unnecessary fuss, with the same results. It had become something of a challenge between them. It was only ever words and always with at least one witness, yet she left with her knickers soaked by the of each shift he went off on her. Everyone at the clinic just presumed personality conflict between the two.  He realized one evening he could barely scent her slick. She had started wearing omega pads. He then considered it a challenge to have her change at least once per shift before she left. Yes, he was a cruel clit tease, but she had allowed it. Still, in all that time he never so much as laid a hand on her until tonight. Yes, he knew what she liked even if she did not.  

_Oh really? You should not have said that!_

“Follow me, and do not move your hands.”

“Alpha please?” she moaned even as she pleaded.

John ignored her and walked ahead. He did not have to look to see if she followed.  He knew by the staccato of her heels that she followed. It was the murmurs that followed in her wake that he knew she kept her hands interlocked behind her back which forced her coat to remain open as her voluptuous form passed others on the line. Alphas in line called out colors to him in hope as they passed. He did not turn to her until he flashed his card.

“Good Evening Alpha Watson.” The bouncer on duty eyes were all over Nina. The omega’s heat and hurt pheromones were a heady mix that had the attention of every alpha within sniff.

“What do you think omega? What about him?” John stood close to her, blocking the bouncers view even as he pinched a nipple. She shook her head in the negative as she bit her lip, her breath becoming rapid. While he was elite they were not a bonded couple, he would not grace her with blanco. He was going to be hard on her, but it was not punishment, rojo did not fit the situation either. After all she was coming here of her free will and technically she could choose to be with any alpha who wanted her once she was in, so he tagged her verde.  Yet, as looked up at the hazel eyes that only had eyes for him, he was not in the least worried of her wanting another alpha.

_No, you're all mine tonight, darling and we'll see about your claim._

He closed the coat partially and watched as she calmed.

 _Better_.

He took her hand and led her to the express elevator. Once the doors closed he pulled the coat open again. He reached into his own coat pocket and pulled out a collar with his W marque. He leaned against her fully for a deep kiss. When he pulled back she was collared and leashed, but the chain was draped casually around her slender neck. That was not how he was leading her in.

The doors opened on Primero. He took her coat and checked it along with his. He nodded in approval as her hands automatically went behind her back in standard omega form. She was in lingerie, collar, verde tag and heels, but he was not satisfied.

“You know you want to be naked, don't you?” He a growled in her ear and gave it a flick of his tongue.

He did not wait for an answer as he reached behind her and unhooked the delicate bra fully removing it. The lacy knickers he simply ripped from her body. He could smell as her scent of her slick increased even as she protested.

 _Almost perfect_.

When they entered the club proper at last he wore leather trousers, slip-ons loafers and nothing else. The raven-haired omega was in the collar, her verde tag, his crème shirt held closed with only one button at the waist that set her warm complexion off beautifully, her high heeled stilettoes and nothing else. 

His face was a study of nonchalance, as he entered the room.

Hers was bright crimson as she followed his short lead.

His short lead being that her heels put her at perfect hand height for him. It was not the most comfortable for him, but worth the stress on his wrist as he leads her around with his fingers in her vagina.

As they walked past nearly every alpha and omega in the room, he paid no heed to the looks he and Nina generated. He went to the bar and ordered a drink. The strain of being paraded around the room showed on that proud face, but the omega said nothing.

John took a seat and joined a conversation with Alphas Matthews, Preston, Winters and Harris. The entire time he kept the omega standing and in hand. Her softly moaned and her breath caught often as he moved his hand around and increased scent of slick dotted the alphas’ conversation.

It was no surprise to him that within twenty minutes of his arrival Alpha Winters was the first to put his omega, Dominique, into oral service at his seat. John continued his participation in the conversation as though nothing was amiss and added another finger. He and Preston completely ignored it when ten minutes later Alpha Matthews grabbed his omega and disappeared behind a privacy screen. Harris’ omega turned and faced him silently asking as she played with her nipples taunting him. It did not take long before Harris’ unzipped his trousers and eager slurping sounds were heard. John continued his torment as Nina moaned through her first orgasm.

“Stay.” John ordered without looking at her as he changed hand position “I’m not close to done with you.

John smirked as he conversed with Alpha Preston, the last holdout.

_Oh, Donald, you’re not winning this!_

Preston’s erection direly strained the material of his trousers. The lovely omega between his legs facing him practically salivated as she waited for permission, the pillow beneath her near going dark with her slick. The air around the immediate area thick with omega heat and alpha rut pheromones as they pretended to ignore the omega while he continued to fondle Nina.

John wondered what would give first, Preston’s resolve or the trousers. All the while he kept his omega in hand.

Preston flinched as his wife laid a gentle hand on the man’s knee. Her eyes on nothing but her husband’s growing need.

Preston waved a finger in admonishment. His wife removed her hand, but she licked her lips.

Nina's thighs tightened on his hand. He knew she close again.

_Nothing but alpha dick can make you come, huh? Darling you're about drop._

“But really Donald, how can you say your team has a sporting chance each time? They’ve barely survived the first of the round each iteration.” John asked. The conversation between the two men may have been about European football teams, but at nearly all other conversation in the immediate area had ceased. Eyes were on him and Nina, who was too far gone as the omega rode his hand. By this point his hand actually meant his fist deep in her. He had stopped pumping her minutes ago, Nina rode his fist chasing her own pleasure. Her breathy pants turning into a low keen as she dropped.

John had not so much as glanced at Nina in that time, conversing with Preston and others as if he was unaware of her.

“You are an utter bastard.” Preston gritted between his teeth.

“It is not my fault your team blows.” John smiled sweetly “Or would you say it sucks as much as your omega wants to right now.”

“Alpha…” Preston’s wife began to tremble.

“In all honestly Preston, your wife is about to blow. Neither one of you are going to make it to a privacy screen if mine blows before…”

That was the exact moment Nina moaned _in harmonics_. She had fully dropped to core. She accessed that vocal vibrato that only omegas in extremis, whether in pain or pleasure can reach.

John grinned as various alphas within earshot pressed their respective omegas into service one way or another, including Preston who snarled at his wife while he desperately undid his belt and trousers.

John twisted his fist slightly and Nina moaned at a higher frequency. He casually looked around the room and noted the few hold outs who caved as other omegas began lower frequency harmonics with Nina's. There were sounds of clothing being ripped.

“One hour and six minutes.” John looked at his watch. That is how long it took from the moment he entered Primero until now. Only then did John remove his fist from between the omega’s legs. Whatever slick that had not seeped out now flowed out in a rush like water breaking as Nina keened and fell onto him, he held her body convulsing body in orgasm.

_Soon._

Teresa Preston dropped to all fours turned and _presented_ , her alpha ripped the soaked knickers from his wife and plunged.

“Alpha…  I swear that has never happened before.” Nina breathed against him, a few moments later, her long caramel body twinned over his. “How?”

“There are people watching…” he sat her in his lap, his own erection straining his leathers.

“More.. Again… More…Please, Alpha.” Nina writhed her slick round arse against him.

 “They will see…” he teased reaching around to pinch both or her nipples.

“Oh God!” she trembled ashamed and wanton.

“Oh, you're looking in the wrong direction, omega.”

“W… what?”

“It's the devil that has you now.”

Winters, the first to succumb was the first to recover. He sat directly across from John and got the full view as John grabbed her under each thigh and slowly spread them. Winter's omega, still impaled on her master's knot started riding him again, but it was clear she wanted Nina.

Nina hid her face in John's neck, but it was not his grip that opened her slicked thighs this time.

“So, the succubus really wants more?” John grinned kissing her. She nodded shyly.

The two alphas looked at each other. Winters nodded, John shook his head in the negative. Alpha Watson rarely shares his omegas while he plays with them. He knew he pushed the omega with him past her boundaries, but he and only he will physically touch her. No one else will lay a finger on her while she belongs to him unless she asks. She was near to core again; he knew she would not ask for another partner.

“God damn you! You… did… this on… purpose!” Alpha Shelton also knotted deep in his omega behind John gritted out between strokes before orgasm over took them both.

“No…  That was not on purpose.” John drawled lazily. He moved the omega in his lap aside and opened his trousers relieving the pressure on his engorged cock. Once free it swelled more.

Omega Preston rode her husband harder looking at him.

Omega Winters whined.

Omega Shelton screamed out for more.

Nina took one look at John’s cock and the omega dropped to core again.

 _Perfect. Now, this is on purpose_.

“Take off those shoes.” The alpha stood in front of the omega. She immediately obeyed then dropped to her knees taking the tip of him in her mouth as she clawed at his trousers desperate to get to him. John stepped out of his loafers and trousers as he picked up a black and gold foil packet. By tradition bonded couples and couples with Second Mates do not use contraceptives, letting Nature take its course for creation is a always blessing. He and Nina were not a bonded couple, he was taking no chances. Yes, he wanted to sire children, but not yet and not like this. 

“Crawl." John crooked a finger and headed for the center ottoman placed there for exactly what he was about to do. Nina crawled seductively behind him, her slick a thin shining trail of desire in her wake. John only had to snarl once. An alpha female fucked a red tagged omega male even as her alpha husband fucked her hard. Even so, she had started to reach out for the sensuous arse crawling past her. He did not have to say a word to the omega as they reached center. The Amazon omega crawled upon the oversized tufted ottoman. Hands behind her back, wrist crossed, her face to the cushions, she knelt and then slowly _presented_.

He knew what she wanted and he was going to give it, but not yet.

She whined for a moment as he put one hand on her arse and the other in it. The omega’s breath caught as he manually worked her to a low harmonic that buzzed through the room.

John simply smiled and twisted his fist in the omega.  She went up in range that set more in the room off anew.

“A… A-alpha… Ooooooh…. Please…? Please!” The omega rode his fist trying to get to that one perfect point again.

“Would you like more?” John cooed.

The omega shamelessly begged as John ripped open the foil packet with his teeth and slipped on the condom.

At his speed the omega started on one note as he swiftly removed his fist and ended on a higher one as he sheathed himself to the hilt in her.

“ _FUUUCK!_ ”

The air was thick with the sounds of more clothes shredded amongst the grunts and groans and keens and panting and moans and harmonics and skin connecting with skin. All of it layered over the wafting alpha rut and omega heat pheromones that permeated the room. He shifted slightly and the omega impaled on him keened in another note - that was the note that finally dropped the alpha in her to his core.

<><><><> 

John lifted his head from the ottoman some time later. He was spooned around a waking Nina.

“Alpha.” She stretched and turned in his arms, “Do I want to know how much of an omega slut I dropped to?”

“Omega.” He kissed her forehead “No, you don’t want to know, but I am going to tell you the details later of just how deliriously scandalous you were and how much you liked it.”

“Watson, God in bloody hell, what have you done!?” Alpha Tipton groaned from a nearby chair. His omega, a male named Evan, was resting in his lap. “The place rivals a soiree the likes of Caligula!”

John looked around the room and suppressed his grin.

He really had not planned this. He suspected it was a possibility he could affect a couple of conversation pits at best, but this had turned out to be so much better.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Tipton. I dropped to core and don’t remember a thing.” He lied smoothly.

Alphas and omegas alike were slowly coming out of the haze. Some looked confused, others ashamed. Others clearly enjoyed the experience. A couple of service omegas for Primero came around with a bin. John carefully removed the condom he wore and deposited it.

Luckily it was the weekend, few had places to rush off to and took their time gathering their belongings. Omega Winters brought John's and Nina’s belongings over and placed them on the floor by the ottoman. “My alpha said to warn him the next time you want to showcase like this. He’ll take more vitamins. I would like to thank you and your omega, Alpha Watson, it was fun.” 

“Tell him, I will. Perhaps another time we will accept your thanks.” John laughed as he reached for their clothes.

He dressed Nina first in his shirt fully buttoned now before he put on his trousers and loafers. With her height, the shirt barely covered her bum.  John saw her face as he handed her the stilettos. “Slippers are in the box by the loo. I had a pair left for you. I did not think you’d want to step on that floor.”

“Bless you, Alpha!” Nina bounced off to retrieve them.

Several Alphas and their omegas thanked John for one hell of a showcase. Every now and then a showcasing alpha can get part of the room nearest them to go into sexual melee. No one among the older members present could remember if an alpha owned the entire room as he had.

John did not try to hide his satisfied smile.

“God the cleaning crew is going to have to replace half of the furniture and likely all the carpet in here from slick absorption alone. Did you see the rug burns on Alpha Beckham?” Alpha Alperin, the alpha who presented John with the gift of his personalized engraved invite and card to Primero, shook his head at the aftermath. “I do not think I lost control like that since A-Levels. You are lucky that risk to clothing is hidden in the fine print or you’d owe a lot of alphas and their omegas new outfits. Thank God it’s late autumn and we all have coats to cover up.”

Like Nina, Alperin’s wife, Stella, wore his oxford shirt as cover, but not having Nina’s height, it covered much more on her.  Alperin’s rush to disrobe had destroyed the zipper on his trousers, they were held up by braces alone. “You did not make much of an entrance when you first appeared at Primero, but damn if you've not made one hell of an exit!”

“Thanks Oskar. Not going to get to do this in South America, figured I'd leave a little something to remember.” John grinned.

“A little something?” Stella Alperin scoffed “They are going to talk about you for years, Watson. Years!”


	25. El Enlace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing players to the playing field. Enter Richard Brook.

Elegant paneled walls. Expensive area carpets marked conversation areas where equally elegant and expensive furnishing provided seating. There were several privacy panels along the walls. Where down stairs were pain and hurt, here it was all sedate pleasure. The décor was different, but the mood was the same. Over all it was as he remembered it years ago. He had no idea when left back then for his tour with _Médecins Sans Frontières_ so much time would pass before his return.

“Alpha Watson‽ You’re back!” The senior most club members in the room always greeted an entrance.

“Alpha Alperin! Good to see you, Oskar, good to be back!”

John and Oskar made the rounds as he reconnected with alphas he knew and met those who had joined in the intervening years.

John kept his face neutral, but he caught a pleased glance from his omega as a slow murmur went through the room of those who remembered then and what was happening now. Whispers of _showcase_ or _Sherlock_ swirled around. All the while Sherlock remained directly behind him as John made introductions. Here all the omegas wore blanco tags denoting their elite status and that they are not to be touched by anyone except their own alpha.

John was seated, a glass of scotch in his hand as he and Alperin conversed. The other omegas, unless fetching food or drink, or going to the loo, were like Sherlock, seated between the knees of their respective alpha. The females all sat on their legs, their hands flat on their thighs. Sherlock, the sole male omega in the building as far as he knew, sat crossed leg in an easy lotus pose. It was the alphas choice which way their omega faced. John knew the detective needed to read the room and sat Sherlock comfortably facing the room as the alpha stroked his hair. Each omega sat on pillows designed to absorb any slick that may occur. Sherlock observed the fresh pillows stacked on one side of the room near a chute to deposit the cast-offs.

Alphas Watson and Alperin and their respective seated omegas pretended not to notice when Alpha Van Noy had dropped out of the conversation as he gave himself into the oral talents of his omega wife then and there. It was a scene that dotted some of the conversation pits in the large room. All in the room were just as unobservant of the actions that happened behind the dividers should an alpha decide the moment called for more than what fellation alone could sate.

John kept a protective hand on Sherlock’s head, petting him as he sat. It moved only to occasionally slide down to stroke the gland at his shoulder. It was not a conscious move. John barely kept his pleasure in check when he felt the near silent purr as it rumbled through the omega’s body at the touch. It had surprised John and clearly caught Sherlock off guard, who went stock still for a moment. The omega turned his head and smiled demurely at the alpha, then turned back and bared his neck for more in response.

_It’s just biology John. It feels good to an omega. You know this. He’s in the role._

“You know I could almost accuse you of poaching?” Oskar teased as he pointed to Sherlock, breaking through John’s thoughts.

“Excuse me?” John laughed lightly.

“Yes. As I understood it I was one of the candidates in line that his Alpha Familiar had set up for him. The next thing I knew I was getting an apologetic call saying the omega was off the market and not even two days later the banns were out.” Oskar sipped his own drink with a smile, not bothered by the near miss. John remembered reading the announcement when Alperin selected his second mate a couple of weeks after he and Sherlock were announced. The comely omega sat quietly as she surreptitiously watched the Van Noys.

John knew Sherlock had heard Alperin when the omega went momentarily stiff under his touch. Alperin was affable, but it would not have worked. He would have tried to change Sherlock who would have balked. He saw Sherlock’s quick glance to Alperin and felt the relief of the near miss.

_He really is glad to have chosen me, such as it was._

“I’d apologize, but I am not in the least sorry.” John laid a proprietary hand in Sherlock’s soft curls.

_Truer words never spoken._

“Nor am I.” Sherlock leaned back and looked up at John. It was _his_ Sherlock that looked at him, not the play actor. John’s breath caught in the intensity of the gaze as Sherlock turned to face him.

Sherlock place a hand on John’s thigh at the knee and rose as John’s gentle finger under his chin pulled him forward. John took the omega’s face in both hands and kissed him. It was supposed to be a simple chaste kiss. Something for show. John felt Sherlock’s hands slide along his torso as he returned the kiss and it became something deeper. John tried to tell himself that it was just part of the act even as this time he heard as well as felt Sherlock’s purr against his lips.

Omegas can fake a growl it’s all vocal, but they cannot fake a true purr. Their entire upper cavity vibrates in the pleasure of it and Sherlock fairly thrummed against him. Sherlock was truly feeling it.

Sherlock trembled slightly as they parted, his verdigris eyes wide in wonder. John’s smile was tremulous as he ran a thumb across the omega’s cupid bow lips.

_Oh God forgive me! How long has it been for him? Over a year and a half? What am I doing?_

Something flashed in the omega’s eyes as he leaned slightly into John’s left thigh in warning as he pulled John into another kiss. John felt the difference in the kiss and knew it was the actor this time. He did not want to think about why it felt like such a loss.

_Shite!_

John heard a voice behind him and did not need to turn around. He knew the bastard would find his way to him, which he did a moment later.

Feeling the Alpha’s presence, he pulled back from his omega who winked at him knowingly. John had about a second’s warning before Sherlock slid down until his curly head rested in John’s lap. His cheek enticingly rubbed against the erection that had never quite gone away. John was well aware the omega knew exactly the image they gave.

_Oh, the brilliant bloody bastard!_

“Alpha Watson. Surprised to see you here.”

He looked up in mock surprise at Dennison’s appearance.

“Alpha Dennison. Are you really surprised?” John casually leaned back in the chair which in effect pressed more of him into his omega’s face. He ran a hand through Sherlock’s hair. “I’d introduce, but my second mate’s a little occupied. Oh, wait, I just remembered, you’ve already met.”

Alpha Alperin snorted, then quickly covered it with a cough. John had told no one other than Mary, yet word of their encounter at the hospital had made the gossip circuit.

John could not help the breathy sigh that escaped as Sherlock cupped him.

“Your omega getting to you John?” Alperin teased.

“He is a violinist, Oskar; his finger work alone…excels.” John bit back a moan as Sherlock’s warm breath engulfed him through the trousers.

_Oh fuck! What is he doing to me?_

John enjoyed the contrasting emotions of fury at the reminder of what was and the lust of what could have been that flashed across Dennison’s face. Sherlock’s dark hair and long neck, the lovely pale muscled back and the curve of Sherlock’s arse framed between his thighs as the omega nuzzled his cock and balls through the trousers. John imagined how gorgeous the view must be from Franklyn’s angle as he looked down upon the scene in front of him. He could not have restrained the next low moan if he wanted.

_Yes, you fuck, this could have been yours if you knew how to treat this omega right._

John gently tugged at Sherlock’s hair and stopped him as another man stepped up.

“Ooh, a male omega? _¡Caliente! Me gustaría joder eso. Y el omega también._ 1 Friends of yours Franklyn?”

Dennison was joined by a man John did not know. Small in stature, he was sharply-dressed in a bespoke suit, and a tie with small skulls. His dark hair was slicked back without a strand out of place and dark piercing eyes that reminded John of something he could not quite place, but he knew it was not good. John could not decide if it would have made a difference to the man were he aware that he knew Spanish and Sherlock was fluent in it; he suspected it would not. Sherlock leaned slightly against John’s left leg again. It was their warning for trouble, he knew Sherlock felt it too.

“Oh, forgive me where are my manners!” Oskar stood, “Watson, I know you already know Alpha Franklyn Dennison. Meet one of our newest members, joined last month, alpha?”

Sherlock rose so John could, John felt the omega's body heat as Sherlock stood behind him with his head bowed, arms crossed behind his back at the wrists.

“Actually, I’ve read your papers on omega biology, Alpha Watson. Fascinating stuff.” The man had a slight lilt to his voice. He held out his hand to John, “Richard Brook.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _¡Caliente! Me gustaría joder eso. Y el omega también._ = Hot! I would like to fuck that. And the omega too. ^return to paragraph^


	26. Dangerous Liaisons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets trapped in middle of the games alphas and omegas play with unexpected consequences for some.

Sherlock resumed his lotus seating position between John’s legs as the alpha sat again. John sat slightly forward so that his left fist rested on his shoulder by the bond bite.

_I am not his love, but I am his._

Sherlock noted Brook smirked slightly at the blatant possessive move. The man was very aware of all that occurred in the room around him.

_He’s scanning it as I am. He’s looking for something. Or someone._

Sherlock kept his concentration on Brook as Alperin made introductions of new arrivals.

“Watson, your omega is known for sizing people up with just a look. Let’s have him tell us about Brook.” Dennison took a seat in an available club chair.

“My omega is _not_ part of tonight’s entertainment.” John said coolly.

_John already knows I’ve done exactly that._

“Really?” Brook ran an appraising eye over Sherlock. “Now, I’m _rather_ curious.”

_Interesting the lilt is completely gone._

Brook looked around for a seat, but all in that conversation area were filled. He quirked a brow at Dennison who had already risen out of his seat and offered it. Dennison stood as Brook took the seat, crossed his leg and looked at Sherlock, “Well? Size me.”

_Oh, you do not want to play with me._

“Alpha?” Sherlock leaned into John’s right leg. He wanted to do this.

“Oh, let him, Watson.” VanNoy back from the sated, chimed in as his omega rose with her pillow and walked away. “You’re not showcasing, at least give us that.”

_What is with John and this showcasing?_

“Fine.” John waved a hand nonchalantly as he leaned a little more toward Sherlock and whispered, “Be nice omega.”

Still, John sat back in a way Sherlock knew meant _Get him!_

Brook’s grin practically dared him and Sherlock knew it as he ran an eye over the man once more.

“You’re Irish, but your accent comes and goes in a way which indicates you are aware of it and use it like a tool or a weapon. Likely to charm some people – most likely to disarm your competitors. You’re very intelligent, you like when people notice just how smart you are, but you also like to keep people on their toes. You don’t like stupid people. You’re easily bored and do not suffer fools lightly, yet you are here.” Sherlock purposely glanced at Dennison before speaking again. “You don’t like people who try to tell you what to do. Your suit is bespoke. Westwood? You wear it as someone used to fine things, but you like a little quirkiness going by your choice of tie. The generations of old school know each other, yet you’re being introduced around as someone new, that makes you parvenu elite at best, making a name for yourself here. You’re looking for something. You spoke Spanish a few moments ago. You are fluent in it, but the intonations are more South American than Spain. Your attending omega tonight is female. She was blanco, but you’ve since changed it to rojo for spilling wine, there’s still a couple of drops of red on your trouser leg. The Shiraz from the bar on three going by the scent. You’re bisexual, but prefer men. And Dennison is scared of you.”  

Sherlock had slowly leaned forward, his voice sped up as he spoke. He leaned again back now that he was done.

There was a moment's silence as all turned to the man being deduced.

“Well?” Alperin looked to Brook.

“It was the Merlot on two, not the Shiraz on three, but other than that - spot on.” Brook nodded impressed, the lilt back. Dennison shot Sherlock a dirty look.

“Would you like to walk the room? You’ve barely moved since you’ve sat.” John leaned over and whispered to him. He felt the tension that radiated from John.

John and Brook eyed each other. There was a menace that radiated from the smaller man. John’s eyes went a little narrow and Sherlock knew he also sensed the not so subtle shift of lust in the air.

_John was wary of the man as well._

Sherlock had not included _murderer_ or _likely insane_ in his spoken deductions. He and Brooks both knew it was blood on his trouser leg, not alcohol.

_I need Mycroft to compile a dossier on him._

Sherlock half-tuned out when the alphas started to engage in various small talk again. The one good thing of playing omega is that alphas tended to speak as though they were not in the room at all or were not able to keep up with the conversation. Brook was not one of them. He barely spoke other than to interject a comment or two.

Curious to see what would happen, he gracefully rose, placed his hands in the proper position behind him and bowed his head to John, “Alpha.”

John held up his empty glass which Sherlock took, then inclined his head and walked away.

He went to the bar to get John a fresh drink when he felt Brook’s presence.

“You are not a normal Omega.”

Sherlock looked down on the dark eyes standing beside him. The lilt was completely gone again.

“What is normal?” Sherlock asked.

“Not you.” Brook smirked “You smell like an omega, you’re playing at omega, but you’re not subservient enough. You most certainly are not a true Second Mate, it does not sit with you. What’s your story?”

“I suspect you think you already know _my story_.” Sherlock turned to the bar and ordered John’s scotch. “You expect me to confirm what you already know, but you mostly expect me to do so by lying.”

“Oh, you are a right haughty.” Richard ordered his own scotch.

“Thank you.” Sherlock arched a brow.

“Didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Yeah, okay, I did.” Richard shrugged. “But Dennison really wants a piece of you and I’m beginning to see why.”

Sherlock took a subtle sniff. Brook did not smell like any alpha or omega he knew. Nor could he pick out any trace of a suppressant or scent blocker.

_Who is he? What does he want?_

“Good! Very good.” Brook’s smile was anything but pleasant “Would you like a scratch to go with that sniff? I’d love to let you scratch my itch, but some alphas are sooo touchingly territorial. I suspect that would be frowned upon by your _master._ ”

The way he said it, Sherlock knew Brook understood John was anything but his master.

“Well, I’d better be off.” He nonchalantly looked around, before he turned back to Sherlock “Well, so nice to have had a proper chat.”

“Was it really? Nice? Or proper?” Sherlock snarked, “Couldn’t tell. Adios.”

Sherlock picked up John’s drink and walked away. He gave John his drink and made another circuit of the room. Dennison and Brook had disappeared by the time he returned to John.

John gently grasped Sherlock's left wrist with his left hand, alpha to omega as he squatted before him. John sat up and leaned toward him to speak.

“I saw you talking to Brook, you okay?” This was his John, not the acting alpha asking.

“Fine. Something about the man. I don't know.” he shrugged slightly, “I do not like not knowing.”

John's deep eyes stared into his, a moment longer. Sherlock grasped the doctor's wrist in his in assurance. John nodded and shifted back to acting alpha mode. Sherlock inclined his head to his alpha, shifted and stood. He headed for the loo checking the appropriate shoe box first.

Sherlock had observed the expressions of some of the omegas at not finding bathroom slippers waiting for them and having to ask to borrow another's or enter barefoot.

A pair of deep navy embroidered Persian slippers under the name of Watson awaited him.

Sherlock smiled at the slippers, a jape at the ornate slipper on his desk at Baker Street and at the courtesy itself as he opened the wrapping and slipped them on.

_Of course, John would remember such a small thing._

Sherlock had smelled several alphas when he had entered. Sherlock inwardly groaned, knowing it was no coincidence when he sensed an alpha approach.

Sherlock finished drying his hands and sighed not surprised at all to find the Alpha blocking his way when he opened the stall door. “Thank you for the courtesy of letting me finish my business first. Potential intimidation while on a full bladder is so inconvenient.” 

“You know you really need to have that smart mouth of yours taken care of.” Franklyn glared at him. “I bet you bruise like a dream.”

_How can someone be so ignorant yet still walk erect?_

“My alpha takes excellent care of my smart mouth, among my other highly intelligent parts.” Sherlock shrugged as he casually shook the wrist with the blanco tag as a reminder the alpha cannot touch him, “Dream all you want. The last alphas that touched me were shamed. Now excuse me.”

Dennison smirked and moved only slightly. The only way Sherlock could get past would be to press fully against the Alpha and squeeze by.

 _I will not give you the satisfaction_.

With Dennison’s height and mass, he could not see them, but Sherlock could hear and scent as other alphas came and went. No one said anything. He realized as long as he was not scared of Dennison he was not giving off scared or hurt omega pheromones. Only when he heard one alpha chuckle to another about _dangerous liaisons_ had it registered to him how it must have looked.

Alphas and omegas who should not be touching each other met in the bathrooms. In fact, he could scent such an interaction in progress a couple of stalls down. More over Sherlock knew all the players.

He realized Dennison purposely attempted to make their interaction in the stall appear as such.

“Oh, that is just rich. I cannot tell what galls more: how much you think of yourself as an alpha or how little you think of my alpha that such a tawdry ploy would work.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

 _John would never believe such of me! Would he_?

* * *

 

John glanced around the room. He had not seen Sherlock anywhere in a while. He knew Sherlock had not left, omegas cannot enter nor leave Primero without their alpha. Yet he was gone too long for a mere bathroom break.

_Wait. Where's Franklyn? And that Brook fellow?_

John looked towards the bathroom as two alphas exited. The two looked in John's general direction clearly in gossip mode. And like most gossips once they realized the topic of their conversation was looking directly at them they stopped speaking and hurried away.

John’s eyes narrowed. He tried to see if he could get any sense of the omega, but nothing came to him.

_Does that mean he is creating trouble or in it? It’s Sherlock – likely both._

“Watson?” Alpha Alperin saw his face.

“Oskar, please bring a second. I think an alpha is forgetting himself.” John stood.

A slight pall fell over the group as Oskar stood as well and scanned the room “Shite. Franklyn?”

John nodded once as he headed towards the bathroom. He heard Alperin ask another to alpha to join them.

La Enlace has existed for decades as a private club because its clients innately understand it is a neutral zone. One does not bring personal animosity in. Despite the nature of the club, you are to be on your best behavior. Especially in Primero which is a representation of the crème de la crème of their kind. To forget oneself is to do something unbecoming of an alpha of their status. For one alpha to accuse another of such there must be witnesses. However, the witness should not be a good friend with the accuser, so no counter charge of collusion can be levied. John naturally went to Alpha Alperin a friend and a respected senior member of the club. It was Alperin who brought the impartial witness.

John sensed Sherlock and Franklyn together just as he and Oskar reached the entrance.

“No, you may not leave. Answer my question, omega.”

Alperin shook his head at the entrance hearing this. Dennison gave off heavy threatening pheromones clearly trying to intimidate someone. Oskar looked to John for confirmation. John nodded, Sherlock was in there. Though Franklyn had stepped completely into the stall with Sherlock, the omega was unafraid of the alpha. No wonder the other alphas did not intervene. He gave no indication of needing help, they assumed he wanted to be there.

_My fearless omega, sometimes playing weak can help you._

“I will ask again; will you please move aside properly so that I may exit the stall?” Sherlock inflected every ounce of haughtiness he could into his voice. John could sense Sherlock was aware of his presence and had chosen the words carefully to give him the information he needed.

_Ask again?_

A blanco omega on Primero asked for release and was denied. In fact, asked more than once. Granted the omega was Sherlock and knowing him _asked_ was relative, but he had surely made his wishes known, so the point was moot. Dennison may be following protocol by technically not touching him, but intimidation of a blanco omega was equally bad on Primero. Dennison was using his physical size to intimidate by not letting Sherlock out of the stall when asked.

_This is my omega, Dennison, you of all people should know he does not intimidate easily._

John grimaced and by Oskar’s grim expression he knew it as well. Franklyn Dennison, snollygoster that he is, was too chagrinned with Sherlock to realize though he blocked the stall door it was the omega who now had him trapped.

“You accosted my mistress on the street. How did you know I was fucking her?”

“I did no such thing. Your mistress happened upon my mate while shopping in Marks & Spencer. When she was rude to me, I simply informed the woman I was aware of her very recent dalliance with you.” 

John could all but see the slight smirk he knew his omega would have on his face. Something subtle changed in the omega's scent and he knew Sherlock was aware of John had moved closer. 

“Omega bitch, I want to know how you knew about me and Emelia DeBarron.” 

John and Oskar immediately turned to the third in their group, Milo DeBarron who has started to turn a most furious shade of red in his rising anger. John knew he was wrong, but he was now very grateful that other alphas were being nosy and witnessed this as well. John knew if Sherlock was aware of his presence he certainly knew the cuckolded DeBarron was there as well. The omega purposely had not mentioned the woman by name, Dennison had outed himself.

 _Oh shite, Sherlock_!

“A simple shower would have solved the issue, but I think she likes walking around town with your scent on her skin, traces of your semen still within her. I smelled you on her. Like I can smell you used the rojo tagged omega downstairs that wore the collar with the K dangle. Like I can smell you had fun with Earnest Wilcox’s naranja tagged omega. Like I can smell my alpha at the loo door now.” The absolute smugness in Sherlock's voice went deep.

Franklyn Dennison stepped back out of the stall in time for John to deck him. John did not have as much clearance as at the hospital. Dennison did not drop, but it was enough to unblock the stall door. Sherlock was in his arms a moment later.

“I didn’t do anything, Alpha, I swear! He wouldn’t let me out and I didn’t want to scream, I didn’t know what to do!” Sherlock trembled like a leaf in his arms, his face buried in John’s neck.

“I know, I know. I’ve got you. I trust you. I know you.” John held his omega tight calming him. He was well aware there were three people in the bathroom who knew Sherlock’s trembling was in suppressed laughter. Sherlock, John and Franklyn Dennison who glared daggers at the back of the omega in John’s arms.

John tensed as Dennison made a move. Sherlock stood straight and turned, all mirth gone.

“Dennison stand back. Watson cannot touch you again for intimidation, but move and I swear I will let DeBarron shame you.” Oskar Alperin was on him.

Milo DeBarron was a small alpha and not much of a fighter. His shot, though a good one, was barely enough to rock Dennison’s head, but it would have to do. Anything else would have to occur well outside the vicinity of El Enlace.

John led Sherlock out to the main room and pulled him close. The omegas entire body was tense. John started rubbing his back until he felt Sherlock start to relax in his hold. The laughter and tenseness was gone, replaced by something neither of them could define.

* * *

 

With a pang Sherlock realized this was the first time they have held each other as John and Sherlock. Not an act for an audience, no pretense.

_That’s not against the rules._

He let his own grip tighten around John. His right hand was open flat against John’s back. He imagined he could feel John’s heartbeat through it.

He felt the flat of John’s left hand on his back in response. Instinctively Sherlock bared his neck and John ran his tongue along the bond bite. It felt…

_Good. It felt good._

A yell came from the bathroom. He smirked.

_Oh, almost forgot about that._

“Sherlock?” John pulled back.

“Wait for it…” Sherlock whispered and held up a finger. He saw when John took a sniff and got it.

“Oh, you're kidding me!” John's eyes went wide in their own mirth as he grabbed his omega’s hand to watch as a ruckus exited the loo.

One furious Milo DeBarron exited the men’s bathroom with his hand around the back of his wife's neck. As an alpha herself she should be dressed, but it was clear from the red welts across her body her clothes had been ripped from her forcibly. Tears streamed down her face as she was walked out. Milo’s hold on her neck forced her to keep her head up so all would see her face as they left Primero.

“He stripped her. She is being treated like an omega.” John gasped.

“The show is not over.”  Sherlock pointed to the door.

A moment later Simone Dennison also emerged from the loo, the men's loo. Unlike Alpha Emelia DeBarron, Omega Dennison’s head was held high on its own. Richard Brook held the lead to her collar where a naranja tag hung.

“Brook had Simone and Emelia in one stall?” John chuckled.

“No, Brook had Emelia, Simone and Franklyn in the same stall before Franklyn took a notion to annoy me.” Sherlock sniffed.

“I’ve used those stalls. How did they all fit?” John asked impressed, then realized what he said and clamped his lips together tight.

Sherlock had gleaned hints of the good doctor’s _showcases_ during the evening from the older omegas who had been around at the time. He turned to John, raised an incredulous brow and simply grinned.

_Oh, alpha! I had no idea you were such a showman before, but I know now._


	27. Something About Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets back to more of the things he likes, tries to mentally work out a problem and learns a couple of things about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday month. I will be posting randomly. The weekly Tuesday posts are still happening, but there will be extras - like today's post. Enjoy!

Sherlock wound the wraps around his hands snugly. Experience had him taking only a couple of minutes per hand to get it done right. He flexed his hand and fingers making fists, ensuring the new red wraps were secured before he donned his leather boxing gloves.  Once the gloves were on he bounced in place tossing loose punches in the air as he scanned the room.

This was his first time back since Victor passed. There were a few new faces, but nothing about the venue itself had really changed. He looked around at the other members and their various levels of ability. He and Kennedy traded cordial nods as they spotted each other. Kennedy currently held third place for lightweight city champion. Official records listed the kickboxer in second place, but Sherlock put him at the third position since he had beaten Kennedy on three different occasions last year when they sparred. Kennedy teasingly nodded towards the ring, but Sherlock had enough sense to decline.

_Maybe in a couple of months when I’ve had time to reassess my skills. I’ll take you down again._

He found himself smiling as Amy, the gym's female champion, battered the heavy bag around as though it had personally offended her female progenitor.

_One of the new idiot men must have pissed her off. Again._

She had been one of his favorites to spar with for it gave them both practice in dealing with opponents of opposite heights and she pulled no punches. That was something he learned the hard way her first day at the gym. Having deduced it would make her mad, when no one else wanted to spar with her, Sherlock got in the ring, “Fine, I’ll take on the darling little thing if no one else will.” Sherlock knocked her to her arse his second hit. She loved it. The _darling little thing_ gave Sherlock a bloody nose on her next hit. They got along splendidly after that. She had been the first to greet him when he walked in.

“Unholy Holmes! Look what dragged its scrawny arse back in! I’ll give you two months to get your shite together before I bloody that pretty nose of yours again.”

“Please! I’ll give myself one before I have you on your darling little bum again.” He retorted with a wave as he headed to the office to renew his membership.

Business settled, clothes changed and gloves on, Sherlock sidled up to a speed bag and kept eye contact with the bag as he pressed a button off to the side to start timing the rounds. The bell rang and he began to throw various punches. Keeping his hands close to the bag, his lip twitched in pleasure as disused muscles slowly started to loosen in memory. He let his mind wander as he picked up the rhythm again.

It had been tense in the house between John and Mary since El Enlace. She was out of sorts the moment she found out at dinner it was a private club for Alphas and Omegas only. She was really pissed when she called Emelia DeBarron and found out exactly what kind of club it was. Naturally, Emelia invited Mary to tea where Teresa Preston and two other elite omegas wives were also guests who knew John back then. Suffice it to say the details of Alpha Watson’s last showcasing ran rampant. That tea occurred the afternoon before John and Sherlock went to El Enlace. That had been one very unpleasant dinner to sit through as Mary let a rare display of jealousy flare. While they both continued to wear their bracelets, Sherlock was glad he convinced John that they should remove their rings.

It took John reminding her the reason she did not know of El Enlace in the first place was because he had stopped attending after he met her. He had no reason to go, for even as a beta, being with her had given him everything he needed. The women at the tea party had apparently said similar things to her and she was finally placated.

At least until the following week.

Emelia DeBarron’s forced walk of shame out of El Enlace only made the gossip rounds because of the arrest that happened a few blocks away from the club. Not wanting to be kicked out of the club, but unable to wait until they reached home, Emelia sucker punched her husband as he drove and caused a near collision with another car. Both exited their car screaming at each other. It seemed Milo was not just upset that she cheated, it was hardly her first affair, but that she was sloppy with it and with more than one partner. Affairs happen frequently, but most go unnoticed, or at least unspoken about until made into a scandal. When a furious Milo called his wife a whore and Emelia went to strike him again a literal knock down-drag out ensued twixt the two. It ended with an unconscious Milo DeBarron being carried out of the way of vehicular traffic and revived by Metro Police once they were on the scene. Their lawyer had them out the next morning with a pantsuit for Emelia and CBOs1 for both. This also was not a first for the couple.

As juicy as that was, apparently, the only gossip juicier was Richard Brook’s carnal appetite was how good Alpha Watson and his naked Second Mate Omega looked together. Sherlock’s neutral face, still looked somehow highly amused as John nearly choked when Mary recited Stella Alperin’s very detailed account of how Sherlock moved his tongue on John’s crotch when Franklyn Dennison showed up. It took John and Sherlock a solid half hour to convince her it was part of the act, that nothing really happened between them.

If looks could indeed kill, the one she threw Sherlock when John got up to refresh his drink would have made Hiroshima look like a cherry bomb. Mycroft had indeed honored John’s request to not bug the house, for the Alpha Familiar surely would have reacted. Sherlock had looked hard for any bugs. He did so every other week. The canny woman somehow never did anything blatant out in the open where a camera might have caught her. Sherlock knew his brother would have confronted him had he seen any of her previous behavior. Especially, that look.

_What am I going to do about Mary? She plays the good wife in front of her husband perfectly. John clearly loves her. How is he so completely oblivious to the virago he has married? Would the alpha even believe me if told him?_

The previous night, Sherlock was in the very tail end of his heat. It had abated enough that he felt safe to return to the house. It was a day earlier than they expected him and they had taken advantage of his absence as they always do. Sherlock walked through the front door just in time to see John take Mary to the hilt. His head thrown back in the throes of ecstasy. He knew this was not planned for Mary would have chosen a more scandalous angle where she could see his reaction. As it was he could see her face well, she had dropped to core, her eyes gone black as both moaned loudly, both oblivious to the detective’s presence. Sherlock closed the door and left stunned. He the truth of what he saw could not be unseen. Worse he could not delete it.

_Not yet._

"Oh, good he’s still here. Now watch this!"

Sherlock was in his third round, as he pummeled his frustrations into the bag, when he heard Alexi, the gym's main boxing coach behind him.

"Not many professionals can do this, not this accurately and at his speed."

Sherlock half-smiled. Alexi was showing off the gym to prospective members and liked to include Sherlock's abilities as a selling point. Sherlock didn't mind the attention. He continued his workout and as always, he quickly forgot about them as his mind went to other things. He barely noticed when Alexi moved on.

In the morning he returned to the house as though the night before had not happened. He has had had a thought, well several thoughts. It was an interesting supposition, not one out of the realm of impossible, but close enough to it. The proof of which would take resources to which he did not have easy access if he wanted to keep it quiet, and for his alpha’s sake he did want it to remain quiet.

_For now. I am not going to Mycroft with this until I have more concrete data._

He had kept a steady rhythm, but by the middle of his fourth go he realized he was no longer paying attention to the bag at all. He was hitting the bag with 100% accuracy and that was impossible. He never had such accuracy at that speed before, it was why he liked it. Enough of a workout to not wear him out, but not one that he could let his mind wander to the point it had.

_How am I keeping up with this?_

He thought of the fight at Killa Kuppa. Yes, Glen Winslow got that kidney shot in, but it really was the only serious hit Sherlock had taken. Terrance was a slow alpha, but still faster than Sherlock at his best speed.

At least his best speed _then_.

_What is my speed now?_

He readjusted the controls and took a couple of practice swings at the bag.

 _Better_.

He went another few rounds. He had to work for his accuracy again, yes, but there was no denying he had improved from over a year ago. He had no idea how. He was at a point in his work out where he should have been more fatigued than he currently felt, especially considering the amount of time that had passed.

_It’s been too long, you should be more out of shape, Sherlock. This…is interesting._

He moved on to the heavy bag and swivel. Understanding that an alpha has faster speed and reaction is one thing, being able to at least dodge and maneuver in time to one was another. Sherlock knew he got lucky with Terrance McGregor. It was the alpha’s hubris that he underestimated omegas in general and Sherlock specifically that got him put down quickly. Was Terrance slower or was he himself faster than he should have been? Either way he needed to practice his dip and move and there really was no better way to hone that skill than practicing with the gyrating punching bag.

He moved around the bag with a series of flowing punches, non-stop combinations that connected to one another. He relaxed and let his hands go in repeated rat-ta-tat combinations, keeping his feet moving as he rounded the bag or planted for a moment when he threw a power punch, with never more than a couple of seconds pause between combos or power punches.

“How are you still here, Holmes? Trying to kill yourself?” Amy braced herself, purposely taking the brunt of the bag as it made contact. She had finished her workout, her sparring and had showered. Looking at her now, _all gussied up like the girl I be!_ as she would say, no one would glean a professional kickboxer stood before them.

He looked up at the clock on the far wall. Over two hours had passed. Now that he had stopped moving he finally felt the fatigue.

“Well, I only have a month to get myself in gear to floor you again. Getting some extra time in.” He teased as he shook the sweat from his head and watched her flinch in mock horror from the drops.

“Boy, you beating that thing like the bag, its mama and five generations of mamas before it _all_ owe you quid. Go shower, you stink. I’ll tell you who my new lucky boy be and you will tell me all ‘bout your lucky new alpha and then tell me who pissed on you. Deal?” Amy held her nose with one hand and pointed toward the showers with the other.

“I lost track of time, Amy. It is later than I thought. Next time we're both here, I promise.” He gave the bag one last solid hit and began to undo his gloves. Amy cocked her head and gave him a smile the spoke volumes.

_Why is she looking at me like that?_

“What?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing. Just good to have you back, Holmes. I know what happens with unbonded omegas sometimes. Even if we had never met again, I was worried when so much time passed without hearing anything. I gotta say I was so happy to see when your banns posted, for it meant you were all right. But now that I've seen you take on this bag. Forget a month, next time we both in here you are getting between the ropes.” Amy went into a mock fighting stance in challenge.

“Remember this moment when you're looking up at me from the canvas, Hermia2 . It’s a deal.” Sherlock half smiled as he watched her away.

_Do better Holmes._

“Amy!” He called out just before she reached the door. He waited until she turned, “Thank you, Amy. I did miss you as well."

He flushed at her surprise, then at the her beaming smile as he headed for the showers before she could say anything. It surprised him to realize the words were true, he had missed her, missed Alexi, missed coming to the gym.

While he grieved for Victor, Sherlock had cut himself off from everything that gave him even a modicum of pleasure. It took weeks before he picked up the violin. After three months Lestrade all but bribed him to come check out a crime scene. It was Anderson's ego and massive ineptitude that set Sherlock off on a ten-minute tirade that truly brought him back. It took two days afterward before Sherlock realized as embarrassed as the arsehole was to be publicly dressed down by him yet again, the bumbling idiot had smiled and gave Greg a short nod in the midst of it. Sherlock did not know what had surprised him more: that Greg and Sally set him up to come back to work and he had fallen for it hook line and sinker; that even Anderson of all people had missed him enough to participate in it or that it took him two whole days to see through the ruse itself. He burst into delirious laughter at the realization of having been had by the likes of them.

Unbeknownst to Sherlock, Mycroft having just stepped out of the sedan in front of Baker Street had heard him through the open window. The elder Holmes had not heard his brother laugh as such in months. Not wanting to be the reason the mirth potentially ended, he waited on the sidewalk enjoying the sound until the laughter died down naturally before he entered. The next day Sherlock strode into Lestrade’s office with three cold case files solved and an appropriate tongue lashing to boot. The detective inspector simply grinned like a loon and just like that Sherlock was back to the work he loved. Coming back to the gym made him realize, yes, a part of him still missed Victor, but as the second-year mark of his death fast approached, with his new alpha's hormones coursing through him, he did not grieve for his former alpha any longer.  

_As how it should be._

Sherlock bared his neck and shoulder to the pulsating shower jet letting it hit the bond bite. When he thinks _Alpha,_ it is not Victor Trevor’s near platinum hair, pale blue eyes and lean frame that came to mind anymore. No, it was a vision of a much more solid body, with silver streaked sandy blond locks and deep blue eyes that played across his psyche. He imagined the rhythmic pressure on neck were John’s fingers and for the first time in a long time, including heats, he took himself in hand as images flooded his mind. John’s blue eyes staring lustfully into his own green eyes. The alpha swearing under his breath as he slid in and out of the omega’s warmth and…

_No! No! You can’t do this! No!_

He had not thought of John in any carnal way at all.

Until the night at El Enlace.

He had kept John in as much mental and physical distance as he could. There was no way to avoid either that night. Being so close to John, smelling him as he unbuttoned John’s shirt… The feel of John’s solid chest through the thin material under his fingers. Sherlock had no idea just how much of himself the doctor withheld until the moment John sat in that club chair, crossed his leg and hit him with _Alpha_ as he ordered Sherlock to strip. He had watched as John got increasingly hard, the alpha’s blatant desire for him caused a reciprocal reaction. John had caught him so off guard he purred! _Purred_!

John’s voice, when it had dropped and took on that alpha growl, was nothing compared to when John pushed up against him moments later and Sherlock felt John’s erection against his arse. And the feel of John’s strong fingers under his own, splayed flat against his chest.

_Yes._

The omega stroked himself as he thought of how good it felt when John’s covered cock made contact with his naked one when he turned around. He had not prepared himself for the friction and knew John saw his desire.

And then in Primero when John took his face in his hands and kissed him. Sherlock absolutely knew the kiss was real. It was not the proprietary kiss given the night they bonded. It wasn’t a role. It was John and damn if the man did not get him to purr again. And granted, it was an act by then, brought on by Dennison’s presence, but Sherlock reveled in the memory of John’s erection against his cheek. How it twitched and John moaned as he fondled the alpha.

_Oh damn! What the bloody hell are you doing, Holmes‽ Stop this! Now!_

Sherlock had purposely chosen the Ancient Forms when he came to John for this eventuality. To remind himself there can be no love between alpha and omega. He had purposely threatened John that first day to help ensure John stayed away from him as well. It was perfect.

At least until recently.

Sherlock had often found himself staring unabashedly at John whenever he could, taking in every single tiny detail of the alpha and his grey-blue eyes. He noticed the little things that even to him seemed unimportant, such as how the skin at the corner of John's eyes crinkled when he smiled, or how his hair was a curious blend of sandy blond flecked with silver. His body was rugged and yet his facial features still held much boyish charm. Sherlock had noticed the way John tugged at the cuffs of his knitted jumpers when he was irritated, and a few more things about John Watson that were definitely not good for him.

Such as when he happened to catch sight of John making his way back to his bedroom from the kitchen, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Clearly, he had went straight to the kitchen from his shower, droplets of water from his hair dripping down his solid chest and back. John had not noticed him as he sat in the dark dining room, but Sherlock had stared as the refrigerator light illuminated the alpha.

Sherlock could not deny that he liked what he saw. He had wanted nothing more than to run his hands along John's torso. Feel the play of the alpha's taunt muscles under his fingers. 

That night, when Sherlock finally went to bed, he had dreamed. For the first time Sherlock had dreamed about another man in that way that was not Victor.

Like it or not, Sherlock was only human and an omega. John was in fact one excellent specimen of an alpha. He knew sooner or later, though he had hoped it would have been much, much later, his biology would seek this.

_No! Control your transport!_

Sherlock slammed the cold water tap immediately drenching himself in frigid water.

_Shite!_

_That’s all this is. Biology. I am omega, he’s alpha. We live together. It’s the proximity. Nothing more._

Having assured his mind and regained control of his body Sherlock stepped out of the shower.

_Besides there’s that something about Mary that needs figuring out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CBO - Criminal Behaviour Orders. CBO replaced the ASBO (Anti-social behaviour order). In S1E2 of "Sherlock" ("The Blind Banker"), Dr. Watson was given an ASBO after being mistaken for a graffiti artist when the actual graffiti artist fled. ^back to paragraph^
> 
> Hermia – a character from Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night's Dream” known for the famous descriptive of her “And though she be but little, she is fierce.” ^back to pargraph^


	28. A Different View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock reexamines the data in front of him and learns a few things.

Sherlock looked at the blank wall over the sofa at Baker Street. Too much information was almost as deadly to his mind as too little. Often it was worse, muddling his mind with extraneous data making it harder to glean the seemingly insignificant, but potential case breaking clues. So, he stripped the wall of everything but the pertinent information first and built it out.

There were now thirty plus dead male omegas with dual puncture in their right arm. Mostly, from European countries, but more reports were coming in from the Americas once Molly thought to stretch the search parameters Stateside. The oldest death being a little over two years ago in Washington DC. A diplomat’s son vacationing from Honduras.

“I hope you're going to crochet a scarf with all that string when you're done.”

_John._

Sherlock rolled his eyes, even as he smiled to himself having heard the alpha's footfall on the seventeen steps to the flat before he smelled him.

He glanced at the alpha as John entered the kitchen to scrub his hands and put on the kettle.

“Perhaps, but as the thought of me taking up crochet once terrified you, I imagined you'd have some other theory for it.” He responded.

“String theory, cute." John chuckled lightly as he came into the living room and looked over the new layout.

They had tea and started pouring over the evidence on hand again. Neither really noticed the passage of time until Mrs. Hudson seemingly appeared by magic as she came up stairs with a tray of sandwiches and mince pies.

“Christ, it's after ten. Thanks Mrs. Hudson.” John took the tray from the woman and placed it on the coffee table.

“Oh, now that is something I have not seen in a long time.” she exclaimed pointing at a photo on the wall. It was a photo of a victim from Miami.

“One would hope that is something one never sees at any time.” Sherlock sniffed.

“Sherlock, she's feeding us, behave. { _Now eat._ }” John picked up a sandwich, walked over to Sherlock and placed it in his hand. “What do you mean, Mrs. Hudson?”

“Oh, it's nothing." She waved her hand, but still looked at the photos.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he took a couple of bites of the sandwich, then looked at his hand surprised by its appearance. He blinked and looked to John who calmly sat and ate his own sandwich.

_How does he do that?_

“Well, I can't believe I even remember something like the details of a floor like that after all this time...” She shook her head, a small smile on her face as she watched the two men.

Sherlock finished the sandwich and then pinned another victim to the wall.

“Oh, you're looking into those old Miami murders too?” She pointed at another photo.

“What?” John looked up from his sandwich.

“How did you know this was Miami?” Sherlock asked simultaneously “Still friends with your drug cartel cohorts?

“It was my husband’s cartel. I was just typing.” She huffed offended.

“And exotic dancing." Sherlock added nonchalantly, as he pinned.

“Sherlock Holmes! If you've been YouTubing…!” she turned to him scandalized.

“Uh, noPe.” He popped the ending syllable. Sherlock kept a straight face as he watched John's eyes go wide as saucers as the doctor looked at the elder woman before him now. He was grateful John schooled his face before Mrs. Hudson turned back around.

“So, you and the Housewives of the Cartel chit chat and…” he prompted when she grew silent.

“Watch yourself young man.” Martha Hudson shot him a quelling look. John barely suppressed his smile at the admonishment.

“Yes ma'am.”

_Don't push your luck, Sherlock, this is Mrs. Hudson._

“Little over two years or so ago, there were a bunch of odd deaths in the various areas. At first it was thought to be a turf thing, but it hit all the major gang turfs. Word of something new on the streets called _El Beso_ because the few survivors who admitted to taking it claimed it felt like the kiss of God.” She explained.

“The survivors?” John asked as he stood to look at the wall again.

“Yes, it was not reported in the news, but some of the South Beach elite had tried it. El Beso killed betas and alphas, but omegas seemed to be good with it. They were the ones who called it El Beso. That photo is the floor of a club in South Beach that allowed betas like me in and… oh, um…" the woman’s voice trailed off as though cutting herself off from saying something revealing.

Sherlock and John looked at each other knowingly.

_The saucy minx! What else does she know that she should not?_

John’s pressed his lips together tight in clear disbelief as the implications hit him.

“Is it a club like El Enlace?” John asked delicately.

Sherlock watched as Mrs. Hudson blushed decidedly.

_Oh John, you’re brilliant!_

She would not look at either of the men as her hand fluttered nervously to her throat.

_Oh, for God's sake! How has word of it reached even her?_

“Mrs. Hudson?” The doctor reached out to the woman concerned.

“John, going by the increased shade of crimson in her cheeks, I'd say she knows of our own visit to El Enlace. All of the _scandalous_ details at least.”

“I… I think I left the kettle on. Enjoy the sandwiches, boys.” the landlady fled the flat.

“Oh.” John snickered as her footsteps quickly receded down the stairs, before he glanced at the detective.

Sherlock quirked a brow at John surprised, the tiniest curl of his own lip appeared.

_You rogue!_

When John quickly looked away, the detective knew John realized he was aware of the doctor’s flash of rut. It was immediately put in check, but Sherlock felt it.

“Luckily most poor omegas do not have access to recreational drugs except through their alphas. It would take an elite to make it an addiction.” John cleared his throat as he focused on the wall again.

“True. She did not answer the question, but I think you’re on to something John. I bet most of the major cities with a large enough AO population to support it, may have a club like El Enlace. I need to research it.” Sherlock could not help but look sideways at John.

The alpha stood with his arms folded across his chest. It was after work hours, his work jumper long discarded. He was in a long-sleeved checked shirt that was half-rolled and showed off his arms. In various shades of blue, the shirt brought out the blue in his eyes as they flicked over the various evidence on the wall.

“Sherlock…?” John’s voice was low, wary.

_Damn, he feels me, as I feel him._

“Yes, John?” Sherlock grabbed the two empty mugs and brought them to the kitchen sink. Putting some distance between them.

“Um… It’s late and I… I have an early procedure and should get home to Mary and get some rest.” John yawned and stretched.

“Understood. I’ll keep looking into this and a couple of other things for Lestrade. I’m staying the night here. If I think of anything new I’ll text you.” Sherlock turned on the taps and started washing the mugs. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah, same here. Goodnight, Sherlock.” John had used alpha speed to don his jumper and coat before his exit.

_He’s lying. Why?_

_Because he wants me…? No._


	29. Selective Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha John starts a conversation with a bored Omega Sherlock. It went in an unexpected direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say I'd be posting randomly this month, here's one - enjoy!

John Watson watched his second mate from a seat in the corner of living room. He was acting strange lately. Stranger than normal, that is.

He knew Sherlock thought of him was an idiot who didn't observe things, but he did.

For the first couple of weeks of living there Sherlock would sometimes sleep when he didn't have a case. He had started regularly eating meals. After the fiasco with the microwave, experiments were now scattered across 221B, specifically in the kitchen. Much to Mrs. Hudson’s chagrin.

It's been nearly a year since Sherlock Holmes has lived with them as their Second Mate. For the past couple of weeks when in the house, because John knew Sherlock did not consider his house home, he would sit still in his room for hours at a time, not talking. The less deadly experiments he could do at the house were abandoned and eventually binned. Meals and sleep no longer seemed to exist in Sherlock's schedule. He was constantly moving. Sherlock sat in the chair with his leg bouncing like crazy.

Something was bothering him or...

 _Oh, he is bored again_.

“No experiments you can run that won’t blow up the house?” John looked up from his paper, finally having enough of his omega’s agitation.

Sherlock looked as though he considered the options before shaking his head in the negative.

“Not in the mood to read, because you’d already be doing so. No cases to look into. No chess or you would have suggested it yourself. I’m guessing the telly is out?”

The disdainful look the curly-haired genius threw at him in response made John chuckle.

Mary had a headache and was resting. His other go to of playing the violin was out even with using the mute.

“May I ask you a personal question then?”

Sherlock shot him a different look then, cool green eyes assessing him. “You may ask.”

_I may ask, but you may not answer, got it._

“You brother is very protective of you. I offered proxy at the coffee shop back then because I meant it. I realized quickly how that was going to happen with or without my permission. How long has he been so deeply intrusive in your life like this?”

“May I ask why?” Sherlock turned to him.

“Since I’ve met Frosty, I see cameras everywhere now.” John shrugged, “The whole of London has turned into this battle field in my mind. I think I’ve always thought of it as such at some level since I’ve returned from the war, but it was a hazy thought at best. Now it’s in sharp focus. I realize that this must be your every day. Knowing you’re being watched, even at Baker Street. For you it’s mostly London and for your brother it is the world at large but I think you both see battlefields and chessboards everywhere.”

John was not sure, but he thought the genius might have been impressed. It was hard to tell, but something minute in the man’s face shifted. Sherlock did not speak, so John continued.

“For the most part you don’t seem to care, in fact you mock the mass surveillance, avoiding cameras when you don’t want to be seen, like the night you came to me. You chose that exact spot, remained still, had me come to you, because no immediate cameras focused on that area.”

“You checked?” Sherlock sat back in his seat, his gaze considering.

“Yes. Your brother attempted his scare tactics not knowing you had come to me. His attitude changed slightly once he realized I was serious in having claimed you as my omega. Only the next day when he and I spoke on the cameras at Baker Street I realized he did not know you came to me because he had not seen us. It took another day for me to realize that you had done so on purpose. I presume it was just in case I did not have self-control and mated you on the spot. I know you did it for your own privacy, but I thank you for it. I am glad there was not a witness to something so personal.”

Sherlock quirked a brow at him and John had the same odd sense of approval, but the omega’s face remained neutral.

“It would have been more like twenty witnesses.” Sherlock sniffed. “But to answer your question. I was seventeen when my father died of heart failure. From the day I was born he had tried to turn me into a proper omega. As you can see those lessons took.” Both men half snort at the statement, “By the time I was a year and Mycroft was all of eight, he had known I would never be one. Except for about nine years when he was in uni and then first working for ‘Transport’…” John half-smiled hearing the air quotes around the word, “…From the day I was born my brother has tried to protect me from others, but mostly from myself. It is not quite the full-time occupation he makes it out to be, but I do like to make him work for it.”

“Such as that walk last week?” John asked.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed with mirth, “Exactly.”

Trying to get to know each other better him, Mary and Sherlock had gone for a walk. A long random walk. The next evening John was anonymously emailed a street map of their neighborhood and surrounding areas with a word superimposed over on it. Upon closer examination of the street names, John realized what he had thought was a long leisurely walk with his wife and omega was in fact a plotted-out course that in the end spelled out FROSTY in the street grid. It amused the doctor so much he printed it out and stuck it to the refrigerator without a word to Mary or Sherlock. John knew when Mary saw it for he heard her delighted laughter from the kitchen. “That damn omega!”

“Next time it’s BOLLOCKS,” was all Sherlock said as he passed the home gym on the way to his room.

“Mycroft said to me that he has been your Alpha Familiar year since you were fourteen, but your father died when you were seventeen. How did that come about?” John asked.

The look Sherlock shot him them was very different from anything he had seen on the man before the omega schooled his face to its usual neutral expression.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sherlock. If I…”

“That, John, is a page in history that had not been spoken of in a very long time until recently.” Sherlock said quietly. “In fact, you are the reason it was spoken of again at all.”

“Me? Why me?”

“An off the cuff remark of yours struck very close to home. Too close.”  
There was something in Sherlock’s face that made John take note.

_A remark of mine?_

“Yes, Captain. A remark of yours.” Sherlock replied to the expression on John’s face.

_Oh, there is a definite story behind this. One that is not pleasant. Is he finally ready to tell?_

John felt a flash of memory of Sherlock and Mycroft by the chairs at 221B.

Mycroft freezing in place. Sherlock’s head had popped up suddenly a horrified look on his face before he quickly lowered it again. The sudden move had reminded John Sherlock was on his knees, so he addressed the omega.

The doctor then remembered exactly what he had said preceding that.

_Christ. Not that._

Again, something subtle in the omega’s face changed that John could not define. John simply understood the Sherlock knew he had figured it out.

“You are saying to me that you were treated like a dog, a canine, in its literal sense.” John’s head tilted slightly as though to hear better, because he was sure he was not going to like what was about to heard.

“Yes.”

John was aghast. He did not know if his shock was for the vile act itself or the complete nonchalance the omega shrugged off the confirmation of its veracity. John sat back and took a breath.

“I think you need to explain that page of history in a little more detail to me, omega.”

“Then you will need to talk to my brother.”

“Why?”

“Because I deleted all but the essential information. The bullet points I retained will not do for you.”

John understood then why Sherlock could be so casual about it. Sherlock had not kept that information, the details that hurt, in his head.

“But can you at least tell me why were you treated like a dog?”

“Because I soiled the carpet.” Sherlock answered with another nonchalant shrug.

 


	30. Fair Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock brings in a reluctant Mycroft to fill in the blanks of a deleted memory. John begins to worry how deep this goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Tuesday...

“You have to understand, John, Sherlock’s rebellious streak started from the moment he could communicate. Our parents paid for the DNAAOT..1 We knew Sherlock was an omega from birth. Our father was not happy. It was as though it never occurred to him he could sire such a thing. He was – physical with our mother. Blaming her and beating her for it – as though giving birth to an omega male was solely her doing. By his first birthday I surmised my baby brother was going to be like myself in intelligence, but I was the only one who did and of course, being seven years of age, no one believed me. By Sherlock’s second year of life, already tearing up the home in the curiousness of everything, throwing hissy-fits in near full sentences when told to behave like a good little omega, our parents finally agreed with me. Still they paid for a second DNAAOT to confirm it.” Mycroft placed his tea down on the side table. He leaned forward in the comfortable wing chair of John’s living room.

John nodded at Mycroft’s words. He knew Mycroft was not happy about Sherlock letting him in on this piece of their past. Not telling him why he was invited over, the two brothers argued hotly about it in front of him, but Sherlock had insisted. From the tension that ratcheted when Mycroft finally sat to speak, John seriously hoped he would not regret hearing it.

“Where I was raised to be my father’s interpretation of the Alpha ideal, as long as I was not better than him mind you, by the time he was five it was well established that William Sherlock Scott Holmes was never going to be a good little omega, ever. The fights were many between the physically older and larger Alphas and betas who were his school mates and the much younger and smaller omega making them look stupid. I asked our parents to let Sherlock take up boxing and baritsu. It did not keep Sherlock out of trouble, but it at least taught him a bit of tolerance and he was better able to defend himself on the rare times he could not talk his way out of it.”

Mycroft saw John give a short nod. Now he understood how Sherlock could fight so well.

“I was the only one in the house who could keep him down to a modicum of trouble, but at twelve years of age, I was on my way to university. Sherlock was going to be left alone with our parents. Mummy understood a little of dealing with her unique child who utterly refused to be pigeon-holed by the omega label. My father on the other hand was determined to turn his youngest son into an obedient omega to be married off or else. Let us just say the “or else” happened. Often.”

Sherlock sat away from them in his own wing chair. He stared idly into the back yard, but both alphas saw as he flinched slightly. He had also insisted on hearing this again in spite of Mycroft’s better judgement.

“Sherlock’s only refuge came in the form our neighbor’s son; Victor Trevor.” Mycroft nodded as John’s unspoken query.

_Yes, Sherlock’s future husband._

“Four months Sherlock’s senior, Victor somehow managed to stay within the walls my brother had built around himself as they grew up. I was grateful, for the boy seemed to be the only true joy in my brother’s life. The seven-year age difference between he and I; along with my being at university and starting my career took its toll on our relationship. Not understanding the ways of the world young Sherlock felt abandoned by me when I left him for university. He began to hate me. Regrettably, I am more than a little like my sire than I would ever like to admit in some things. I certainly learned detachment from him. Being young myself, I assumed Sherlock would grow out of it and become more like me. So, I detached myself from his theatrics when I visited and waited for him to grow up and see things my way.” John shook his head at the evidence in front of him of how well that went. Mycroft acknowledged his youthful folly with a wry nod. “I became intolerant of him when it became clear that was not going to happen. By the time I understood more of the world myself and could accept that Sherlock was his own unique being, the die between us had been cast. The patterns of animosity were well set.”

John looked to his omega. Sherlock sat silently, but was clearly agitated.

Sherlock may have deleted the details, but the heart remembered. John looked to Mycroft unsure what to do. He knew Mycroft realized, as Sherlock’s bondmate, John felt the Hurt Omega pheromones that flowed from his brother. John sensed it was going to get worse.

“Sherlock, I am about to get into the memories you chose to delete. This is your last chance to exit.” Mycroft offered again.  
Sherlock had turned his chair away from them to look out through the French doors to the yard. His curls swayed slightly above the curve of the wing chair as he shook his head in the negative. Mycroft looked to John and lightly sighed.

_Sherlock is staying. I am sorry my omega, I had no idea what I asked of you, but as you need to know of me, so do I of you._

Mycroft closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were focused on his brother’s head. The cool gazed then looked to John as if to say get ready.

“Sherlock had just turned fourteen when I chose to delve into a rare moment of spontaneity and come home for a long weekend holiday. I knew there was a problem when I handed my valise off to one of the maids upon arrival. I sensed an ill mood from the beta and she would not meet my eyes. I would have let it be, but the more I walked the halls the more the feeling pressed upon me as I passed others. As I neared Father’s study I realized most of the staff I had passed, betas and omegas alike, gave off a similar dismay. When I reached the door of the study I knew why and attuned my senses. I found the only other being hurting as much as, if not more than, Sherlock. Our mother. Violet Alexandra Sherlyn Holmes gave off her own pained scent as an omega, but was even more helpless than her baby boy against the tyranny of her husband’s rule. She piteously cried the tears for the child who would not cry for himself. Between Mummy and my  brother, I then understood the general malaise that hung over the home like a widow’s veil. Their combined Hurt Omega pheromones had affected the staff, even the betas. It was…bad. I put my hand on the door handle with dread and gave myself a moment to prepare myself.”

John glanced to Sherlock as he raised a hand to Mycroft. He went to the cabinet, retrieved three glasses and poured healthy amounts of scotch into each. He passed a glass to Mycroft then went to Sherlock.

“Hey, you…” He said softly after a moment as he tapped Sherlock against his shoulder with the glass. Sherlock looked up. John just caught the haunted look in the omega’s sea green eyes before its usual cool detachment took over.

_What have you gone through that you’ve had to learn to cut yourself off from the world to survive, Sherlock?_

“I know I asked for this. And I thank you for allowing me this. However, that does not mean you need to bear this burden again. If it gets to be...too much, I want you to go to your mind palace. I will bring you out when we’re done. I remember how.” He squatted beside the man and held out the glass, “Promise me, that you’ll not suffer needlessly, my omega.”

Sherlock reached for the glass, but John held it tight as their fingers touched. Sherlock looked at John. Something flashed in the pale eyes as he nodded once. “I promise.”

John nodded in turn as he took his seat again and nodded towards Mycroft to continue. Mycroft’s cool blue gaze looked at him with some consideration before he spoke again.

“John, I am going to need you to not interrupt me until I am done for I am only going to tell this story once. What you get – you get.” Mycroft warned. “And what you miss? – too bad.”

John lifted his glass to sip, instead his hand froze in place as he stared in surprise while the man made of ice placed his glass on the table, removed his jacket and laid it neatly to the side, rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt. For anyone else this was elegant casual, for Mycroft it was just shy of slovenly.

Mycroft took a long sip of his drink, then very much like his brother, he sat back in the wing chair and placed his palms together under his chin – it was John’s sole warning– as the Iceman left.

“John, you might want to put that glass down now.” Sherlock still faced the window and the yard, yet he knew John’s glass still half raised.

“Uh… Yeah, right.” John blinked, took a deep sip and put the glass on the side table alongside Mycroft’s.

Where Sherlock was somewhat animated while in his mind palace, Mycroft was unnaturally still. He unerring turned from Sherlock’s voice to look at John, but having seen that vacant stare several times on the younger Holmes sibling, the doctor knew what it was.  
Sherlock deleted it.

_Mycroft has buried it in his mind palace so deep he has to tell it from there?_

For the first time since Mycroft walked in the door, John wondered if this were a mistake.

_How bad is this about to get?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .DNAAOT (DNA Alpha-Omega Test [ de-nay-ot]) The DNAAOT is the only reliable test that can tell if a new born has a second gender. More than looking at genetics, it examines the at the individual DNA level. The test is exorbitantly expensive and only The Elites and Pack Elites have the funds for an exam that costs in five-digit range. 
> 
> ^return to paragraph^


	31. A Page In History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is absolutely stunned as Mycroft unearths a deeply buried memory between the Holmes brothers. Then Sherlock drops his own bomb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is my birthday, so here is a gift for you.
> 
> TW: Emotional and physical abuse of a minor.

Mycroft sat back in the comfortable wing chair of John’s living room and closed his mind’s door to the outside world. Sherlock had a Mind Palace. Mycroft preferred his Mental Library, with its own Holmesian Decimal System to organize his data. A very comfortable library mind you, where each master subject had its own wing and with a fireplace and comfortable seating. There was a basement and a cellar, several levels deep, for things he did not need to access on a regular basis, but then there were the things beneath. The things Mycroft did not want to remember, but his mind will not let him forget. There were very few things here, but those things were… best not talked about.

This was one of them.

> As always, he heard his father’s voice in his mind exactly as he heard it then…
> 
> “I know you are standing there Mycroft. Enter or be gone.” Their father spoke from inside. Mycroft knew that tone of voice. Lord Siger David William Holmes was not in a mood to be trifled with.
> 
> _Oh, baby brother what mischief has ensued to bring our father’s wrath thusly?_

With trepidation Mycroft put his hand on the door in his mind and stepped through into memory. 

> Mycroft had expected to see Sherlock on his knees. Forcing Sherlock to absolute stillness was their father’s favorite form of punishment for the overactive omega.
> 
> Mycroft expected to see the bruised face. Back handing Sherlock was their father’s first instinct always. Though even now the omega never thought much of his looks, puberty had hit and the adorable cherub was growing into what promised to be a tall lanky being with striking looks. He had his father’s physique and dark hair, just smaller. Still, he was going to be taller than most omega males. He also had their mother’s striking eyes and genius. Like Mycroft, Sherlock also inherited their father’s presence, when a Holmes male entered a room you noticed him before he opened his mouth, then you could not forget him. Where Siger was charm personified in public and Mycroft had mastered a cool detached grace all his own, the youngest Holmes male, unfortunately, was rarely remembered for a good reason. Sherlock either did not speak at all because he deemed you unworthy of his interest and you knew it or you were verbally vivisected as he deduced the absolute worst about you for all to hear. Oddly enough many found the omega’s cold silence more insulting. Sherlock’s intelligence was matched by his impatience for normal minds and intolerance of being treated inferior because he was an omega. A treatment their father attempted to instill regularly.
> 
> What Mycroft had not expected to see was Sherlock shorn of his dark curls, his torso, arms and legs and the left side of his face covered with bruises. Mycroft did not have to deduce the bruising along the boy’s body because he could see them with his own eyes for Sherlock was naked.
> 
> Arms wrapped around his knees, Sherlock sat on his haunches, in front of but to the side of their father's huge oak desk where he can be easily seen by his father. Slick pooled on the hardwood floor beneath him. Beside him, but away from the semi-dried slick, their auburn and golden retrievers Redbeard and Yellowbeard lay respectively. From the amount that has already dried under him, Mycroft estimated Sherlock had been in that position for at least two hours.

Something or rather someone in the world said a loud curse that reached in.

_One second of this memory was far too long. If I pull myself out to acknowledge it, I will not come back._

Mycroft suspected it was the doctor reacting to his words and ignored it.

> Sherlock had stared straight ahead, not acknowledging his brother’s entrance. His head held high, as imperious as ever. It fooled their father, but not Mycroft. The boy’s body thrumed with supressed anger and shame. He cannot defend himself against their alpha father, but he would not capitulate.
> 
> _My God, Father you have lost your mind‽_
> 
> Siger sat at the desk working. The cool blue eyes Mycroft inherited scanned information on the computer as he took notes.
> 
> “Good evening Father, dare I inquire?” he asked his father smoothly as he closed the door behind him. He tamped down his rising anger.
> 
> He already knew nothing the man said would allow forgiveness for this, but Mycroft cannot help but want to know his sire’s reasoning.
> 
> “The very question does.” Siger looked up coldly at his eldest. He sported a bruise along his jaw.
> 
> _Dear God, Sherlock HIT him‽ Now wonder the boy is black and blue._
> 
> That Sherlock was his son, and their mother would never forgive him, was likely the only reason the young teen was not in intensive care.
> 
> “As for you, you little cur – an alpha has entered…” Siger side-eyed his youngest son.
> 
> Sherlock looked nervous for the first time since Mycroft entered the room.
> 
> “Father, he knows that he needs to address me, I believe the issue is he is unsure as to how to address me.”
> 
> It was only the slightest movement from his brother, one that his father missed, but Mycroft knew he had properly deduced the problem. “You may use human words with me, Brother.”
> 
> Sherlock’s look of relief that he would not be made to bark was immense, but brief, as he knew their father watched.
> 
> “Hello my brother. I gather your day has been more productive than mine.” Sherlock looked to his brother, then snapped his head aside narrowly avoiding the brogue shoe that flew past his head. Both dogs lifted their heads from the floor as the shoe landed, but stayed put at Sherlock’s command. Mycroft watched in stunned horror as his brother crawled to the shoe, picked it up with his teeth and then turned to return it to his father.
> 
> “Drop that!” Mycroft called out appalled as with a sickening feeling that nearly brought him to his own knees he realized this was something that has occurred many times before in his absence.
> 
> Belatedly he realized how that sounded. “Apologies, Sherlock. Please stop.”
> 
> Caught between the two alphas Sherlock looked from his father to his brother and back. He lowered the shoe to the floor, not moving any further as he reluctantly angled his body toward their father. As Alpha Patriarch his alliance had to be to Siger, Mycroft understood the omega had no choice.
> 
> Mycroft walked to his brother snatched the shoe and threw it to the other side of the room. He turned to their father “My God Father! He is not a dog that soiled the carpet!”

Again, a noise from the outside world made itself known. He suspected it was his brother this time. Again, he ignored it.  

> “Actually, he is.” Siger stood as he pointed back to the wet spot on the floor. That…mess…was left on the living room carpet as he and his friend played chess. If he’s going to soil the floor like an incontinent canine, he will be treated like one until he learns!”
> 
> “Father you know it takes at least a year for a pubescent omega to learn control. Did you not let him wear pads?” Mycroft frowned, mostly at himself for he knew the answer.
> 
> No, misogynist that he is, unisex omega pads would be akin to feminine hygiene products in his biased mind. He would not have allowed them for his son.
> 
> Mycroft took off his jacket and started to hand it to Sherlock.
> 
> “Take it and I will beat you until several things break.” Siger snarled at his youngest child as he stood. “Get back to your spot you little bitch! God help you if you’ve wet the rug.”
> 
> Sherlock whose hand was out to receive the jacket immediately recoiled and crawled to where he was before. Unlike when Mycroft first entered the room, the young teen’s bravado was now gone as he whimpered outright.
> 
> _My God, he’s terrified of our father! What in the hell has happened in this house while I’ve been gone?_
> 
> “God DAMN you!” Siger snarled at the slight stain that had gathered in the short time Sherlock had stayed still. The patriarch pushed back his chair walked from around his desk and started to stalk towards his younger son. Mycroft could see the man fully intended to make good on his threat to break something.
> 
> He never got the chance.
> 
> Mycroft raised a hand, “Do NOT touch him ever again.”
> 
> “What did you say to me?” Siger stopped and looked to Mycroft, his face was thunderous.
> 
> “I did not stutter, Father. You beat it out of me, remember?”
> 
> Two people in the room gasped. One in fury. One in surprise.
> 
> Mycroft stepped carefully to Sherlock and placed his jacket on his brother’s shoulders. He leaned over and whispered, “Leitmotif.”
> 
> It had been many years since the word was said between them. The way Sherlock startled under the jacket told Mycroft the boy still remembered. It was the only hint Mycroft had that his brother heard him before he gently shoved the teen away from him. He knew for certain when Sherlock grabbed the jacket and ran. In the excitement of his sudden movement the dogs ran off behind him barking.
> 
> Siger demanded for Sherlock to come back, but the boy wisely did not stop.
> 
> No one gainsaid Siger Holmes, especially within his own home, least of all his own get – until now.
> 
> “So, you think you can do better with him?” Siger advanced slowly.
> 
> “I did better with him the first seven years of his life. No wonder he hates me now, leaving him to you these past nine years. He did not tell me. Mummy, naturally, would never speak against you. The staff surely would not and wisely, you hid this all the other times you knew I was coming home. I would not think to ask Victor. I have caught you all off guard by just showing up here today, without warning. The perils of being an adult you can no longer control.”
> 
> Siger Holmes lips curled at the ends – you could not call it a smile. Mycroft knows this because it is a look he has perfected for himself. The young agent’s renown was already spoken in certain spheres. He already knew he was beginning to be called The Iceman. In less than five years he will be coded as Antarctica, his reputation sealed.
> 
> But before he can protect the nation from any foreign tyranny, he had to protect his brother and mother from a domestic one first.
> 
> “Do not let your little minor position in the government fool you boy. You may be an adult, but I can still put you down.” Siger sniffed.
> 
> Mycroft raised a brow. His parents were the first people he told that fabrication. Even invited his parents to see his office with its nice shiny name plate and title on the door.
> 
> “Perhaps.” Mycroft loosened his tie.
> 
> “He’s here‽” Somewhere on the main floor of the household Violet Holmes yelled in surprise.
> 
> _Sherlock has told her then. A mobile call is next._
> 
> When a maid entered the room with cleaning equipment a few moments later, neither man spoke as she silently cleaned where Sherlock had been. Mycroft suspected after so many hours the hardwood floor may be permanently stained, but that was the least of his concerns. He observed his sire’s disdain as he watched the maid clean.
> 
> He knew the look was not for the woman, but for the purpose of her being there.
> 
> It was at that moment Mycroft realized just how much Siger Holmes loathed his youngest child for being an omega, something Sherlock had absolutely no control over.
> 
> “Mycroft??” Violet Holmes rushed into the room. She nearly collided with the exiting maid. The maid curtsied to the petite woman of the house, nodded to the alpha men and hurried out of the room.
> 
> Mycroft sighed to himself, he imagined every servant would be all ears within minutes. He looked to his mother and his anger at his father became a barely contained rage.
> 
> Completely self-taught, she was a brilliant woman in her own right. Sherlock once got a copy of a collegiate entrance exam and gave it to her. She aced it. Both sons know their minds were a gift from her. They often wondered how far she would have gone in life were she not an omega female, bonded to the tyranny of her husband. Where he could not touch her intellectually he dominated through the force of his physical being and their bond. She could not fight against him if she tried, their bond saw to that.
> 
> Archaic beta law once stated a woman was the property of her husband and was not allowed to testify against him in a court of law. For some alpha and omega marriages _not allowed_ is a physical thing. In the second year of their marriage Siger choked a maid for countermanding an order he had given. Enough so that someone on the staff called 999 after the fact. Though Violet was in the room as it happened, when Metro arrived and questioned her, any attempt she made to tell the truth or even say a disparaging remark against her Siger, caused her a major headache. The more she tried the worse it became. She could not, her very blood would not allow it. Violet tried until she passed out. When she awakened Siger had beat her because he knew she had tried.
> 
> “You have been busy today, Father.” Mycroft went to his mother and gently touched her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying for Her child. Her crystalline eyes, so much like Sherlock's, searched his. He schooled his expression from her, knowing she was one of the few people who could read him when she tried. “Hello Mummy. I am well. If you could please go check on my…”
> 
> A knock on the door interrupted them.
> 
> Mycroft bit his lip at his father’s grunt of frustration as a maid announced that his uncle was at on his way up the drive. Rudolph, Violet’s older brother and her Alpha Familiar was one of the very few people Siger had a real fear of. Uncle Rudy was free to visit the Holmes manor at will. However, the only persons from the Holmes family allowed to visit the Vernet home with such freedom were Violet and Mycroft, although Siger did not know about the latter - yet.
> 
> _How fortuitous. Sherlock will not have to make that call after all._
> 
> “Violet, shall I make our usual excuses for you?” Siger glanced at his wife as he returned to his desk. Mycroft knew Siger fully expected her to claim an ailment and cover for her tear swollen eyes from her older brother. Mycroft stepped back from her letting her decide what she wanted to do.
> 
> “Violet?” Siger arched a salt and pepper brow when his wife did not respond.
> 
> She nodded to her husband and walked toward the door. She got as far as placing her hand on the handle when she stopped and faced the room. She looked to her elder child with a question. Mycroft dipped his head with an answer. She left the room.
> 
> “And what was that about?” Siger lazily waved a hand between the door and Mycroft.
> 
> “An omega acknowledging an alpha as she exits as she’s been raised to do.” Mycroft answered glibly.
> 
> “First Born…”
> 
> His father only used that term, or First Heir in the case with Sherlock, when he was angry and moments from striking either of them.
> 
> “The last time you called me that was at my graduation from Oxford. You insisted on letting me know right then and there in the Sheldonian Theatre that my dual degrees meant nothing to you as you knocked me to the ground.  I was sixteen and you still owned me.” Mycroft’s lip quirked slightly. “I am not sixteen anymore.”
> 
> “Is this what I think it is?” Siger Holmes snorted.
> 
> “I cannot ascertain your thoughts, Father. I cannot say.” He replied coolly.
> 
> _But I suspect we are about to find out._
> 
> Mycroft had been told of his father’s prowess all of his life. He had only seen his father fight with his own eyes once. Siger delivered a single blow to an alpha who dared to speak a disparaging remark on his mother’s figure when she was pregnant with Sherlock. It was over so quickly, Mycroft did not count it. Like most responsible alphas, Siger kept his fights out of sight of his young children. By the time Mycroft had reached his first full rut and would be allowed to witness such, Siger’s reputation was well in hand. The last fight Mycroft had heard of Siger was on business out of the country. Only his uncle had told him the details of it. He suspected it was in preparation for today.
> 
> Father and son moved.
> 
> After a mission that put him in a hospital for six weeks, being bloodied didn’t bother him, Mycroft allowed Siger to get in the first few strikes as he assessed his father before he returned with strikes of his own. Siger had a natural’s fighter’s instinct and definitely struck with the intent to incapacitate. Though Mycroft’s training allowed him to avoid the worst of the impact, the hits still hurt.
> 
> Siger had a smug expression as he got in another hit until Mycroft returned with a blow that knocked the man to his knees.
> 
> The door to the library swung open. Mycroft’s eyes flicked to the door.
> 
> Rudy rapidly looked around the room, his eyes landed on the two combatants.
> 
> Rudolph Aloysius Vernet entered the room with his sister in tow. Mycroft’s cold eyes may have come from his father, but his auburn hair and stockier build was a direct link to the Vernet side of the family. Rudy's right arm was in a sling from a mission that had not gone quite the way he expected, but it was a success. Though a number of years older and a couple of inches shorter than his brother-in-law, Rudy commanded a certain respect.
> 
> “So, this is what I think this is.” Siger eyed his eldest child warily. “You want to be Alpha Familiar? While I still live? Oh, I will take so much pleasure in putting you down, boy.”
> 
> “It was not the purpose of my arrival. Your abuse of my brother changed that.” Mycroft answered honestly. “This cannot be allowed to continue. Mummy will not leave you out of fear. I cannot take Sherlock from you without her. You do not care for him, but you will not give Sherlock to me out some sense of pride. If I walk out of here now, I all but consent for the abuse to continue and after what I witnessed tonight? No Father, I cannot. You’ve left no alternative.”
> 
> “What happened to my nephew?” Rudy asked darkly.
> 
> “He was being disciplined because he cannot control himself.” Siger answered.
> 
> Violet looked at her husband incredulously. One glare from him and she immediately bowed her head and pivoted about to back out of the room. Rudolph grabbed her arm and stopped her.
> 
> “I repeat: what happened to my nephew?” Rudy looked directly at his sister.
> 
> The frightened omega looked from her brother to her husband to her son and burst into tears.
> 
> “Uncle, you are asking an omega wife to speak out against her alpha husband.” Mycroft said quietly. “You know she cannot. Not even someone as brilliant as Mummy.”
> 
> “Then, where is he? He can tell me himself.” Rudy let go of his sister, who sighed gratefully and gave a short nod of thanks to her eldest.
> 
> “He should be headed to Victor’s.” Mycroft answered “He cannot be here for this. I’ve…”
> 
> Too late he saw his father move.
> 
> Siger Holmes charged his son in a way Mycroft knew meant business.
> 
> Mycroft solely reacted out of instinct as he grabbed his father’s arm and used the momentum to fling him around and meet him with a fist straight to the solar plexus. Siger dropped to the floor.

Mycroft had the odd sensation of being hit in his chest. It sometimes happened when he accessed a painful memory. He would feel his own past emotions or physical pains almost as viscerally in his mind as it had happened in reality. Still in his Mental Library, it did not register to him that this was not his pain in memory, it was one he should not have felt.

> “Yield Father, I do not wish to damage you.” Mycroft backed up even as he flexed his shoulders and braced himself to strike again when Violet Holmes fainted.
> 
> Rudolph could not lift her with the broken arm. Mycroft did not think twice as he left his father gasping for air. He went to his mother and lifted her from the floor.
> 
> “Stay with him, we’re not done.” Mycroft said to Rudolph as his uncle opened the door.
> 
> Rudolph looked back at his brother-in-law wheezing. “He’s not going anywhere. Let’s get her upstairs and settled and we’ll come back down.”

Mycroft felt three taps on his wrist. He blinked, caught between memory and reality. He felt three taps again.

 _Sherlock_.

He found himself wheezing very much like his father had as he looked up and found John staring down at him instead.

 _What_?

Sherlock was no longer in the wing chair but on the sofa, his head in his hands.

_What is going on?_

“There you go, deep breaths.” John was taking his pulse.

Mycroft realized then he had in fact been hit in his chest.

_Sherlock hit me? Why?_

“Sherlock got out of his chair and just as you said you hit your father he hit you. You did not respond to a direct hit that should have hurt. I brought you out to make sure you were okay. Give yourself a moment to catch your breath.” John looked relived as he let go of his wrist. “Are you in pain?”

Mycroft shook his head in the negative. He certainly felt the punch, but he had been hit much harder than this by his sibling. He looked to Sherlock.

 _Why_?

“You know you killed him.” Sherlock spoke without lifting his head. There was something in his voice that gave Mycroft pause but he could not get past his brother’s words.

 _What_ ‽

“What‽” John turned to the omega.

“YOU KILLED OUR FATHER!” Sherlock sprang from the sofa.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to run and hide now...


	32. The Next Page

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is a witness as Mycroft and Sherlock go deep into their minds to recall the details of their father's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst continues...

John moved fast enough to block Sherlock from hitting Mycroft again. Even so Mycroft’s natural speed at seeing a threat coming was fast enough. John fell backwards from the force of Mycroft’s defensive push away from his brother. He held tight to the upset man in his arms even as he rolled with him.

“Sherlock stop!”

“Let GO of me John!”

He rolled Sherlock face down onto the floor and kneeled as he locked his legs around him. Realizing John had his arms and legs effectively pinned by sheer strength alone, furious, Sherlock snarled, twisting his head madly as he attempted to head butt and bite.

_Christ, this man’s an alley cat!_

“Sherlock stop this!" Mycroft commanded before him.

“You killed him!”

“Not helping!” John snapped at the elder brother as the younger became more frantic in his moves.

_Don’t make me do it Sherlock! Please don’t!_

Sherlock snarled in fury, his focus solely on getting free and to his brother.

 _I’m sorry my omega_!

As soon as Sherlock twisted his head to the right in an attempt to bite at him, John twisted his and bit down on his shoulder at the bond bite.

“{ _Calm down_.}”

Sherlock gasped as John sucked at his shoulder through his shirt. He shoved comfort pheromones at the omega who still struggled.

John had not been this up close to his omega since El Enlace. Whereas he caught whiffs of Sherlock natural scent when they were in close proximity, it was nothing like being so close to the man. Not the expensive shampoo or his occasional cologne, but him. The hint of lime and honey and something darkly undefinable tightened his grip for a different reason as hurt and anger came from the omega.

_Christ, Sherlock! What Pandora's Box have I forced open? I am so sorry, my omega._

“{Easy omega. Easy.}”

Slowly he felt some of the fight leave the omega, but not enough to let him go. John released subtle protective pheromones as well.

“It’s okay.” John caressed the omega's chest and worked the gland with gentle licks as Sherlock started to relax in his hold.

“{There you go. You’re okay.}”

“Tell us what you can. You need to let this out, my omega.” John continued to send comfort.

“{Omega?}”

“She didn’t know either… Mummy was a widow for nearly two minutes... " A broken voice responded as Sherlock went slack in his arms. John had to quickly readjust so that he was cradling the omega against him as he leaned against the sofa for support.

Mycroft blinked. John raised a curious brow, unable to really see Sherlock’s face from his angle. Mycroft tapped his temple as he looked at Sherlock.

_Oh. He went into his mind palace. But he can still talk, like Mycroft had?_

“He’s tapping into an unpleasant memory, John. It's likely buried as deeply as mine. He wants to tell, but I suspect he has finally reached the too much you were worried about and is doing as you instructed him.” Mycroft sat down again.

John took Sherlock’s pulse. It ran fast just as it had in the car that first night.

_He is definitely in his mind palace._

“Do you know what is your normal heart rate while in your mind? Is it affected by mood?” John asked.

“I honestly do not know. Sherlock and I are the only people I know of who do what we do the way we do. I’m surprised it has never occurred to him to run such an experiment. Or maybe he has and did not tell me. I have not done one on him.” Mycroft frowned slightly. “Why do you ask?”

“His pulse was elevated the times I’ve been witness to take his pulse. But each time he was under stress.” John thought about it. “I need a baseline, for both of you I guess, so I’ll know if you’re in cardiac trouble. You took a direct blow to the chest and barely flinched while under, but as soon as I brought you out you wheezed as expected. That can be an aid or a danger.”

“We have been hit while in our own minds. We do not always react kindly when brought out unexpectedly. Sherlock especially. Years later, I learned from Victor that my brother would retreat there from my father when it was bad. Father took exception to it and would beat him out of it, if caught deeply in. It is why Mummy and I instilled the tap on the wrist wake up. One for when Mummy brought him out, two for Victor and three for each other. So he would know a it was safe and not immediately be on guard. You, Anthea and Lestrade also use our code, so it takes us a second more when we see someone other than sibling. I suppose by rights, as his alpha, you can use Victor’s double tap.”

John took Sherlock’s pulse again.

Sherlock slowly stirred and looked at John as the alpha let him go.

“Though you each use the same signal, you each touch me differently. I know who brings me out by the second set of taps.” Sherlock sat up.

_He's still upset, but better._

Sherlock nodded, rose and moved to the sofa.

“You okay, Sherlock?” John moved to a wing chair.

“I heard and saw almost everything, Mycroft. _Everything_.” Sherlock addressed his brother.

John glanced between the brothers. The two stared at each other and John had the sense some sort of mon-verbal communication happened.

“The priest-hole.” Mycroft said after a moment.

“Yes.” Sherlock responded.

For the first time in John’s presence Mycroft Holmes dropped his mask in the comprehension of his brother’s words.

The Iceman looked completely devastated. He visibly tried to gather himself together, to little avail as his head fell into his trembling hands.

“Sherlock?” John spoke softly to the omega, taken aback at having seen this side of Mycroft. “Priest hole?”

“Our familiar home is very old, John. Built during the height of Christian persecution. There are four priest holes built into the structure. I accessed the one to Father’s study from the dining room. My room looked over the front of the estate, I saw Uncle Rudy’s car approach the gate as I reached my room and hurriedly dressed. Thus, I did not have to call him per Mycroft’s instructions. At fourteen I was still considered too young to witness a familial Alpha fight in spite of my knowledge of them. I was supposed to go to Victor’s, but...” Sherlock explained.

_But of course, you did not follow your brother’s instructions._

John cursed as it all came to him. “Mycroft had said, what was it - leitmotif - to you? It was a signal he was going to challenge your father for Alpha Familiar?”

“Not exactly.” Sherlock rose, found their respective glasses and refreshed their drinks, first serving John then Mycroft as he spoke. John could not help but wonder how many times the omega must had had that particular lesson, the order of service when multiple Alphas are present, beaten into him. “When we were both young and oppressed under our father’s tyrannical rule, Mycroft had read that an alpha of age can challenge the Alpha Patriarch to be head of the household pack provided he or she had the means to actually do so. He would say first chance… or one day… that he would be Alpha Familiar and fix all of that. It was his mantra whenever I was punished or he was disciplined unfairly in our eyes, which in my case was a lot. As I studied the violin and learned musical terms, when Mycroft next went on a rant I called it his leitmotif, a repeated refrain associated with him, because I had heard it all before. It was never mentioned again until that night.”

“That’s why you hit me in the chest, but not enough to do damage.” Mycroft lifted his head, his eyes had a slight distant look even as they unerringly found, then focused on his brother.

_Between minds again?_

Sherlock rose then, went over to Mycroft and sat on the floor in front of him crossed legged. Mycroft immediately pushed off from his chair and matched him on the floor. John understood this was not Omega and Alpha Familiar, but simply two brothers who needed to talk. John felt as though he was intruding on something private.

“I’ll be in the kitchen. I can start din…” John rose from his seat. He froze mid turn seeing a hand movement from the omega.

“No John, stay. We’re here now, it was only a matter of time before this all came out. I need to tell him, but like him I only want to say this once and never again if possible. You are my alpha, I cannot deny answering any questions, I also just bid you wait until I am done.” Sherlock held out a hand in invitation to join them. John looked to Mycroft, still a little shell-shocked at seeing such emotion from the man.

Mycroft did not raise his head, but nodded. “Thank you for the courtesy, John. I think I know what happened, but I need him to tell me.”

John nodded and joined them on the floor.

“Before you get started. You told me you had deleted this to bullet points, but you have this part?” John asked.

“The only other witness to the event died when I was seventeen. I felt obligated to keep it intact.” Sherlock answered him then looked to his brother. Something in his eyes shifted and somehow John knew it was the fourteen-year-old that looked back at them.

<><><><>

The fourteen-year-old had stood in the space behind the decorative plinth, a hollowed twin to the one on the other side of the fireplace. It was designed for a priest to stand sideways and hide between the walls until the threat was gone. Or if there was enough time, sidestep his way through to the dining room while the pursuers were waylaid in the study and make their way to one of the more secure priest holes on the estate or escape entirely. Sherlock discovered the passageway when he was six years old. At nine he had the study bugged for sound. At ten he had two cameras in the room. His only issue were the dogs. It took months to train them to ignore him if the sensed him nearby. Which was a moot point then for neither dog liked their uncle and were usually put in Sherlock’s room until Rudolph left.

“Stay here, I doubt that he’ll do so, but if he leaves the room let us know.”

Sherlock heard his uncle order one of the domestics before the study door closed. He stood there in glee, silently cheering for his brother.

_A year late to have spared me this, but you kept your promise, Brother! Now what are you going to…_

Sherlock watched as his sire fell to one side.

_Father? Father!_

He looked at the monitor and realized his father was not moving from the floor. He was out of the priest-hole in a flash barely remembering to properly close to the plinth properly as he ran to his father. Siger was non-responsive to his call.

_Cardiac arrest? Or Angina?_

He instinctively knew he did not have time to call for help and began CPR.

“Father please!” Sherlock desperately whispered as he repeated compressions on his father’s chest.

_This is not what I wanted! I did not want you to die! Please!_

Tears of relief fell when Siger’s breathing slowly returned. Siger’s eyes opened to see his youngest above him. Sherlock recoiled at the fury he saw thinking he was about to be yelled at when Siger’s body slackened.

“What...?” The Alpha Patriarch tried to move. Sherlock stilled him.

“I think you’ve had a heart attack, Father. Please stay still.” Sherlock slowly rolled him to the recovery position, then started to rise “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No.” Siger’s hand snaked out and grabbed his wrist.

“Father please! Mycroft and Uncle Rudy don’t know you stopped breathing. I need to call!” Sherlock tried to pull his wrist free, but he had no chance of getting out of his father’s grip without hurting him.

“No.” Siger said more firmly as he slowly sat up. He looked at his youngest “You saved my life.”

“Of course, I did!” Sherlock angrily wiped his tears away. “You are my sire.”

“Don’t tell them.” Siger looked to the door.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Sherlock hissed as he arched a brow at his father, an unfamiliar feeling growing within him.

“What do you want?” Siger narrowed his eyes, sensing the shift in his child.

_Father’s pride is everything. How much does he want to keep it? What is staying Alpha Patriarch worth to him?_

“You do not touch me or Mummy Ever again.” Sherlock raised a dark brow, for the first time in his life feeling a sense of power over his father.

He looked up as Mycroft and his uncle’s voices approached. He would not make the priest-hole in time, he did not want to give his up hide-a-way. “Go to the doctor tomorrow. Your word, I want it, they are coming.”

Sherlock stood his ground as Mycroft and Rudy could be heard near the door.

“You have me word.”

“It serves you best to keep it, Father.”

Sherlock ran and dived under his father’s desk, he stilled the chair, just as the study door opened.

<><><><><><>

Sherlock stopped speaking for a while after that.

“Sherlock?” John started to reach out to him but stopped himself.

“I don’t know what happened after that. I went to my mind palace in case Mycroft finished what he had started I did not want to be a witness. When I came out, I was alone in the study.” Sherlock turned his head to John, the doctor knew the man had returned.

“I… I had no idea.” Mycroft’s voice was barely above a whisper as he looked at his brother. “You never told me. Even after he died.”

“There was no point. You were my Alpha Familiar from that moment. He never touched Mummy or me again.”

“That explains it.”

Both John and Sherlock looked to Mycroft as he spoke.

“I was young in my career. I still had things to do and people to prove myself to especially at that age. He yielded easily because he knew I had won, but I did not know at what it nearly cost. I would not have gone to jail, for such is sanctioned in that situation, but even if were accidental, patricide? Even now I am not sure that was something I could have handled then. It was Uncle Rudy who suggested the compromise to let him save face and remain as figurehead of the family. I did not marque him where it could be seen, but I assured him a most painful death if he touched you or Mummy again. As far as the world officially knew, I did not become Alpha Familiar for another three years when he had the heart attack that finally killed him while on a business trip. Everyone in the house knew, but ancient family lines such as ours do not survive through time without staff that can hold its secrets.”

“You placed your marque on his chest, over his heart. A stripe for Mummy, myself and for you. I saw them when I brought his suit to the funeral home.” Sherlock was silently crying, his head lowered. “I lied and said it was from one of his hunting trips, but I knew what it was when I saw it.”

Mycroft started to reach out to his brother, but stopped and looked at John for permission. Alpha Familiar and Proxy hold no bearing when an omega’s alpha is present, but John understood and nodded.

Sherlock surprised them both as a pale hand reached out and touched the hem of John’s trousers first.

“Alpha…?”

_Sherlock wants me? Me?_

Hurt Omega poured off Sherlock in waves as he asked in the only way he could. John knew Sherlock was truly hurting to even do that much.

John stood and gently guided Sherlock from the floor to the sofa.

_My omega needs me._

The alpha sat and pulled his omega into his arms. Naturally, Sherlock resisted. John understood, it was not a true rejection of him, Sherlock had depended on no one but himself for so long. Though the omega in him wanted it desperately, the man’s instinct to fight against the need for comfort was well ingrained.

“{ _Come here_ my omega.}”

Sherlock curled into John, put his head on John’s shoulder and shuddered.

“It’s out now, my omega. It’s done.” John’s arms went around him.

“You both finally know. You’ve held that for a long time.” He sent comfort and protection to Sherlock. “Can you let it go now?”  
Sherlock shook his head in the negative against John’s chest.

“{Then rest omega. _Sleep_.}” John kissed the curly head as he gently stroked Sherlock’s arm, rubbed circles on his back. “You’ll be alright anon.”

John watched as Mycroft rose from the floor and walked over to them a few minutes later. He gave a soft nod to the sleeping Sherlock and stroked his brother's curls once. The elder Holmes brother's cool gaze was knowing as he straightened his clothes and returned to being Frosty the Spookman.

The doctor told himself he was simply being a responsible alpha taking care of his omega in need. It was simply biology.

_Alpha cannot love Second Mate._

Alpha and Alpha Proxy locked eyes.

John knew Mycroft read him perfectly and was not buying it either


	33. Believe It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John face some truths even as they deny others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on holiday and completely forgot yesterday was Tuesday. Sorry about that. 
> 
> This is the last week of September, thus the last week of extra updates. Next week we return to our regular once weekly schedule. I hope you've all enjoyed my birthday month gifts to you.

Sherlock awakened in John's arms. Mycroft was gone.

_Early evening._

Sherlock laid partially on his side, John’s body solid beneath him. One arm around Sherlock's waist, the other across his back.

The slow rise and fall of the alpha's sleeping chest relaxed him as his mind replayed the events of the afternoon. A secret held for over two decades was out in the open at last. He admitted to being surprised that Mycroft dropped his Iceman mask in front of John. That was a level of trust to which so very so few were privy. He wondered what, if anything, was spoken between the two alpha's after he fell asleep.

_This is what you have done for me since the day I met you. Taken hold of that which may or has hurt me and eased it. You are a good man John Watson._

The weight of its burden was not gone, such a thing would never fully go away, but it was greatly alleviated. Sherlock buried it deep in his mind palace, assured it would be a very long time before he would access it again.

Sherlock shifted slightly and the alpha instinctively secured the hold on his omega. Even in sleep John continued to send comfort and protective pheromones to him. He fought with the urge that made him want to linger in the comfort given.

_Get up Sherlock. The need is over. You should not do this._

As Second Mate, he has no right to request comfort. If the alpha saw his need and gave it willingly, it was good, but he should not have requested it, even in the non verbal way he had. He knew John wanted to give comfort, but respected the boundaries Sherlock himself had set. Letting that memory out into the world for the first time since he was fourteen and told Victor took more out of him than Sherlock had expected. It was the most emotion he had dealt with until Victor’s passing. Even withdrawal from drugs had not caused such heartache.  Only the evening he submitted himself to John had been more so. As much as he abhorred sentimentality, he was omega. Even he was sometimes in need of physical contact outside of heat.

And it is a need.

Omegas by their very nature are social creatures. Sherlock's intellect and lack of humility ostracized him from his peers growing up. He did not make friends. Mummy and Victor tried to help and he did learn to be less abrasive, but it was always easier to for him to just keep people away. When his nature asserted itself, he had Mummy and Victor who always seemed to know when he needed succor without his asking. As he grieved for Victor in the beginning Mycroft knew how to reach through to him.

Greg had comforted him once.  

> It was during the time Victor was abroad. Sherlock was five months clean from drugs and had just started what will become his self made business as Consulting Detective. It was a tough kidnapping case that had a happy ending, but it was a close call. Greg had noticed Sherlock was unusually quiet as he dropped him off to Baker Street. Greg asked to use the loo and Sherlock let him in. As soon as they were in the flat, Greg simply pulled Sherlock into his arms and held him.
> 
> Naturally, Sherlock tried to rebuff him, but Greg held on until the omega relented. It was the first time someone had cared for him that was not Mummy, Mycroft or Victor. He did not count what was done for and during drug use. There was no love or care then and he immediately deleted each occurrence.
> 
> The embrace had felt good. Very good. It was Sherlock who tried to turn it to something more. The two were up against the wall, shirts unbuttoned,  breathless from a good snog, before Lestrade pushed away from him.
> 
> “No, Sherlock.” Lestrade shook his head. “You're a gorgeous man and one hell of a kisser, I'll give you that, but no.”
> 
> “Why not? I can tell a part of you wouldn't mind.” Sherlock ran a teasing hand down Lestrade’s chest, until the sergeant backed away before Sherlock could reach his belt.
> 
> “You looked like you needed a hug, mate.” Greg buttoned his shirt. “I know you're an omega, but I also know you won't ask. That is all I offer.” 
> 
> Greg had called him mate. He knew by the tone of his voice, he meant it truly. Greg considered him a friend.
> 
> “Then why here in my flat? You could have hugged me anywhere.” Sherlock asked.
> 
> “Oi, you'd be arrested for assault of a police officer if I tried that in public and you know it.” Greg laughed. “I figured you would accept it better in private.”
> 
> “You are correct.” Sherlock nodded, Greg was right, he would have decked the cop had he tried.
> 
> “Look Sherlock, you're an arse that made some mistakes, but you're a great man. Someday, you might even be a good one. I don't think you have many friends and I'd like to be one for you. Is that okay?” Greg held out his hand.
> 
> “We'll see.” Sherlock accepted the hand and the offer.

And that, as they say, was the start of a beautiful friendship.

After first suffering through an embarrassing couple of years of her infatuation for Sherlock, Dr. Molly Hooper eventually joined that very selective circle of those who honestly cared for him and he cared for in return.

Now he had John to add to that circle.

John, who from the very beginning was right there and gave to Sherlock selflessly. Sherlock had not felt this calm since the morning after John bonded him. He awakened feeling John's hormones coursing through him and for the first time in months he felt peace. The burden of the ticking clock on his life gone.

_John is a good alpha. He deserves better than me as Second Mate._

Sherlock had seen John with Harriet and Clara's children. They had spent the weekend with their favorite, and only, uncle and Aunty Mary when John gifted the mothers a long weekend in the country as an anniversary gift. He was wonderful with them, finding that balance of spoiling them, but not letting them get too out of hand. It reminded Sherlock of how well John interacted with Jerry Lorimar. John Watson would have been an excellent father.

A Second Mate's job was solely as child bearer and caretaker. A glorified nanny while the pups were young. A favored family member at best once the children were older or when longer able to have children. Some are barely a step above the family help. All things Sherlock knew he would never be able to endure.

_I cannot bear the thought of bringing pups into the world that I cannot raise as my own. I am sorry John._

He felt John's body shift around his. A warm hand traveled up his body and came to cup his face. John's thumb gently stroked his cheek. He knew John was still asleep. It was such a tender move, Sherlock could not help but wonder what it meant.

_Was it John? Or is it simply the alpha responding to the omega?_

He did not have time to think about it. He heard Mary as she entered the house through the garage. He knew he was wrong, but he was not ready to leave the alpha's arms. Who knew when he would be willing to ask for such again? He wanted to enjoy the feel of the alpha beneath him a few minutes more. Sherlock waited until he knew she was just about to enter the living room then closed his eyes as he gently moved in John's arms and turned his head away so he would not be tempted to look at her.

He heard Mary's slight gasp as the alpha automatically shifted and tightened his hold on Sherlock momentarily, then relaxed as Sherlock stilled.

Mary came over and stood above the pair for a moment. He heard the slight jingle of her bracelets as she reached out. He thought it would be to touch John, instead he felt the omega ownership bracelet on his own arm move slightly. It was at that moment he realized when John had shifted position, his left hand which wore his matching bracelet as alpha had covered Sherlock's right hand on his chest where his own bracelet lay. It was not planned, but it certainly was perfect as he knew she touched John's bracelet in turn.

 _Yes, I am his, believe it. If only he were mine._  

Sherlock felt it as John's body woke to an arm full of seemingly sleeping omega and a wife running a hand throughout his blond hair.

* * *

  
John slowly opened his eyes and peered into Mary's. He could not help the small smile of pleasure at the solid weight or his sleeping omega upon him. John felt the calm in his omega. He had no idea if Sherlock knew it gives an alpha joy to help when their omega is in distress, but it does. He could not stop himself as he kissed the top of Sherlock's head.

In another world this would be idyllic. An understanding wife, a caring Second Mate all living and loving in cohabitation. Had they a regular Second Mate, it could have been possible, but alas no. John did not think Sherlock would like being caught being needy this way. The confessions of the afternoon were enough. To seek alpha's comfort may be the way of the omega, but not of the man. John also sensed Mary's displeasure. It was one thing to witness alpha-omega interactions on the job with MSF or with other people. Though they've lived together nearly a year, this was the first time his beta wife saw the two of them interact this way in their own home. This was something else. It was a tight smile she wore as she looked upon them. He could imagine how it looked to her.

“I'm sure there is a good explanation for this.” Mary said archly.

“I learned some things today and my omega needed me. Can you give us a moment? I'd like to give him some space. This has been emotional enough for him…’

“Him? Emotional?” Mary scoffed before she could catch herself. Whatever else she may have been about to say died on her lips as John narrowed his eyes at her.

_He has more heart than you'll ever know, Mary._

“Go in the kitchen, Mary, please? Let me wake him. Leave him some pride. It's been a day.”

“Fine. Tell me later?” Mary capitulated and gave John a kiss on the forehead.

“No.” John shook his head.

“No?” there was a note in her voice John recognized all too well. He was not about to have that argument in front of Sherlock. He knew she was still a little miffed over El Enlace. It could not be helped.

“Mary, you're a beta. You need to understand that there will be things that are solely between Alpha and Omega which will not be privy to you. Even if Sherlock and I were not what we are, this is not mine to share with you. So, no. I will not tell you later." John calmly explained.

As she walked quietly away John knew an argument was brewing for later. It was also one of the signs she is thinking about leaving for another tour. They wound up having more arguments as she grew restless again. A part of him suspected, despite her behavior otherwise, she was in fact going through the clichéd beta wife-omega second mate envy.

_I'm sorry Mary, you're learning all of this on the fly. It is our way. I have to accept your leaving. You'll have to accept he is staying._

John felt Sherlock stir in his arms as he woke. He kissed the top of the omega's head again, “Hey you.”

Sherlock quickly sat up and looked around. “I did not mean to fall asleep on you.”

“You hardly sleep enough as it is. And this afternoon was a difficult one. You are so self-sufficient, my omega. It was nice to be needed as your alpha.” John sat up as Sherlock rose from the sofa. He took in Sherlock's wrinkled clothes and the sleep lines along his face. The alpha suppressed his smile as Sherlock caught his reflection in a window and immediately ran his fingers through his hair to fluff out his flattened curls.

_Vanity: thy name is Sherlock Holmes._

A sound is heard from the kitchen. It was a flash of annoyance that crossed Sherlock's face before he schooled it to his usual detachment, but John caught it.

_Damn he knows._

“To be honest I heard her coming. I apologize for any problems caused, John. I could have moved in time. I… I did not want to.” Sherlock's eyes flicked towards the kitchen with a slight flush as he whispered his next words. “It's the most at peace I've felt since you've first bonded me. Thank you.”

A look of surprise flitted across the omega's face as though just realizing the truth of the matter.

_Christ, Sherlock really meant that._

He could feel it as the omega's walls went up, shutting himself away again.. A part of the alpha wanted to throw his arms around him again.

_No John. He does not have need of you now, stay back._

“We are alpha and omega. We are who we are. She will get used to it. She has little choice. I cannot abandon you knowing you need me and even if I could, I will not.” John ran a hand through his hair and let it rest on his neck as he looked at his omega.

“John, I have spent so many years relying no one and learning to do without, even with Victor I was reticent with my needs.” Sherlock turned to him solemnly “I realize I am even less than forthcoming with my needs as omega to you. I did not consider your needs as alpha to provide for me. I am trying.”

“I know who you are. You're never going to be that type of omega, Sherlock." John laid a hand on the omega's arm, happy to feel the frisson of pleasure that thrummed through Sherlock at the touch and that he did not automatically recoil from it. “I like your independence. Having you has made me realize a needy omega is not my style. But yes, we are bonded and I am happy that you realize I do need to give as you need to receive. It literally is my pleasure to give to you. You're okay now?”

“Yes, I am. I am going to change clothes and head off to check in with some of my homeless network on some leads” Sherlock nodded.

“Going back scratching again? Don't forget to disinfect when you're done.” John teased in recall of a previous conversation on how the consulting detective employs some of London's homeless as eyes and ears around the metropolis.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he walked away. John sighed as he head toward the kitchen. Mary was leaning against the breakfast counter eating a yogurt.

_Oh shite._

“I am sorry, Mary. I just realized I was supposed to make dinner wasn't I?” John winced as he looked at the makings of the pasta dish he was going to prepare. “How hungry are you? Can you wait, I'll still cook or we can go out?”

“I don't feel like getting dressed to go out John, I'm tired.”

“Then we don't. We can swing by that chip place near Battersea. No need for fancy dress there. You're fine as you are.”

“Oooh! The one that gives the extra serving of chips?” Mary's eyes lit up. “Deal.”

<><><>

“So, really. What happened with Sherlock today?” Mary asked over an hour later as they walked in the door of their home.

The doctor raised a brow at his wife. The food run had been pleasant, too pleasant. John was not in the least surprised by the question.

“I do believe I said I was not telling you.” John locked the door and followed Mary.

“I just thought you said that because he was there.” She turned and placed her arms around his neck as they reached the kitchen.

_Really? We're doing this now?_

“No Mary, I meant it. If this is an attempt to seduce it out of me, I will thoroughly enjoy your efforts…” John pulled her close, reached up and twisted a few blond strands around his fingers. “… but you will fail.”

“You've never kept secrets from me before.” Mary huffed as she turned and walked away.

_Well! That was quick._

“I've never kept one from you that pertains to us." he corrected as he followed her, “This does not pertain to us.”

“I keep telling Emelia she's so wrong about you.” Mary stopped at their bedroom door.

“Hmmm?” John raised a curious brow.

“You're a good alpha.” Mary sighed after a moment as she entered the room, switched on the light, went to the edge of the bed and sat to take off her shoes.

“I don't have your average omega, but I try.” John sat beside her and began to remove his shoes.

“You're a great husband." Mary began to remove her jewelry.

John blinked, “Okay, that's good. I mean I always thought I was great.”

_And where is this going?_

“And Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man.”

_And shite!_

“Mary please!” John groaned.

“No, I mean it. It’s heartwarming.” Her head shook in the negative in spite of her words. “You've done and will do anything for him."

Mary stood and headed towards the bathroom. John followed her.

“No. I'll do anything for you. Just tell me what it is I'm not doing. _Tell_ me!” John reached out for his wife.

“Don't make me compete with your omega!” Mary yelled as she pulled away.

“Dammit Mary! You are my spouse. My wife. My First Mate. There is no competition!”

“That is not how it looked when I came home."

"I cannot. No, I will not betray his confidence to assuage your insecurity, Mary. Just as what we discuss is not for his ears.” John sighed.

“Tell me you don't love him, John!”

“Alpha cannot love Second Mate, Mary.” John quoted the Ancient Forms.

“I don't believe it.” Mary struggled in his arms, but he held her tight.

“You know this. I bonded him. It is in my nature as alpha. I protect my omega. I comfort my omega. He had never asked it of me before, I cannot deny him. I must give him what he needs. Regardless, believe it, I love you, Mare. I love you.”

John kissed his wife tenderly, “Honey, you know this is Emelia and the other wives putting thoughts in your head. I love you.”

He had not lied, he does love his wife. He showed her how much as he slowly undressed her.

When the morning sun woke them, Mary believed her husband.

John felt Mary's weight sprawled across him. For the first time in six years of marriage John wished the body he held was not his wife's. The memory of how right Sherlock felt in his arms, their limbs entwined is the thought that crossed his psyche and sent him to the shower for relief.

_Alpha cannot love Second Mate._

_Alpha cannot love Second Mate._

_Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I'll actually believe it._

Art Credit: Small Little Kitty   
A little  cutesy for the mood I'm aiming for, but I could not resist.


	34. Balm When It Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Devastating news reaches Alpha John. Omega Sherlock, equally moved by it, wonders if the alpha will let the omega comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A suicide happens. There is a break about halfway down, the story can be picked-up from there.

“How, but I… oh my God… I didn’t …I swear to you I didn’t know!”

The man visibly trembled as he grabbed a bin and hurled into it. Sherlock slowly shook his head to Lestrade. The man had told the truth. The chemistry teacher had been duped into creating a new designer drug. Under the guise of getting homework help the parents of the students involved had given their respective off-spring complex problems, which of course Dotiss, a man of science if not common sense was more than happy to help the students with. The hapless teacher solved the problems they were having and perfected the formula in bits and pieces. Mr. Dot, a form of methamphetamine, was the result that hit the streets a couple of years ago.

Lester Pierce who could never stay out of the minor troubles he managed to continually find himself in, got himself out of yet another pickle by cluing Lestrade into some rumors he had heard regarding the creation and distribution of Mr. Dot. The rumors led to facts which led to one of the student drug dealers. That lead to their accidenttal chemist, one Mr. Caesar Dotiss. The chemist who was dismayed to learn of his involvement and clearly repulsed that the product was named after him.

Sherlock, Mr. Dotiss and Greg had exited the classroom to take the teacher to New Scotland Yard for his official statement when two teachers and the school nurse ran past them in a panic.

"…and what the hell is a Docwat or a Shlock?" asked one.

“Hell, if I know. It’s what’s pinned to his rucksack. I guess his parents will know.” Said the other.

Sherlock froze.

“Sherlock?” Greg turned when he realized Sherlock stopped.

Sherlock realized what school he was in and _knew_.

“Lestrade take him. I have to stay.”

A high-pitched scream was heard from a stairwell in the distance immediately followed another.

Sherlock ran to the stairwell leaving Lestrade with Dotiss.

“Forget the bloody door, Yvonne! You and David block that damn landing so they can’t see down! The bell is about to ring!” The school nurse, Mrs. Mathison by her tag, screamed at the teachers above her as she pushed two shocked students out of stairwell into the corridor. Before she could say anything to him Sherlock shoved past the woman and went into the stairwell.

_Oh God, no!_

He saw Jerry Lorimar's body hanging from the upper level stairwell banister a makeshift noose around his neck.

An hour later he knew why.

Jerry, now twelve, was in the first day of the on start of a new heat. An upperclassman by a year, a female alpha, smelled him in passing and realized what was happening. She flirted with the unsuspecting boy and held him on the stairs after the bell. She toyed with his emotions until he slicked through his pants. Being young herself she was not prepared when his raging omega in heat pheromones hit her. She dropped into full rut and growled. Jerry having even less experience dropped into full omega and naturally presented. She took him then and there in the stairwell. It took fifteen minutes before someone from the staff saw them. It was another ten minutes before the school nurse could tranq the mated couple. It was a pure blessing that the entire incident happened between bells. No student was a witness to the coupling. A few students saw when their separated, but tranquilized bodies were carried to the nurse’s office, but that was all. Of course, all four parents were called in and met the next day.

Though the alpha girl had tearfully admitted her part in it, her parents refused to listen and blamed the omega. Her parents fell to the stereotype that it was all Jerry’s parents fault for not having the young omega on the suppressants, in order to control “those insatiable animalistic omega heats” if they were going to be irresponsible parents and keep the boy in school. Suppressants that his parents could not afford, not to mention until a full year had passed and he stabilized, he was too young to take. The girl’s parents threatened to bring a lawsuit on the school for not protecting their daughter from the omega’s ravishing. “That is why omegas are pulled out of school, they become too stupid and can’t be trusted to control their own animal lusts. He should be expelled!”

That meeting was yesterday afternoon.

Jerry’s parents were both at work. They had told their son to stay home, they did not know what happened until Sherlock called them in lieu of the school.

The school nurse had unpinned the note on Jerry’s rucksack before police and emergency services arrived with the intent to give it to the parents. She did not think the police needed to read something so private unless the parents had wanted to make it public. When she overheard Sherlock call Jerry’s parents on his own phone she realized he had to be the _Shlock_ in the note and gave it to him instead.

Sherlock thanked her and pocketed the note. It was addressed to both him and John. He would wait until he was at the house, they should read it together.

<><><>

The moment Sherlock entered the house, he knew John had been told. The cursing alone would have been enough. The alpha rage and hurt pheromones also confirmed it, but it was the groan and crash of something large and metal that sealed it.

_Oh, that’s a bit not good._

The only things in the house that could make that kind of noise were in the home gym, he headed there.

“John…”

Sherlock stood at the opened door and stopped.

“John?”

The average Alpha was naturally stronger than most beta males. Yet like anything in life there were degrees and exceptions to everything, Olympic caliber body builders and weight lifters among betas were the baseline strength for the average Alpha.

A 50mm/2in thick bar with a tensile strength of 680kb/1500pd stood twisted and lodged in the far wall. The stainless-steel tube uprights of the multi-station/cross machine that weighed over 356.8kg/780pd each were warped. Each weight of the dual stack hand weights that began at 22kg/50pd had been pulled apart and thrown with enough forced to lodge them into the walls. If Jackson Pollack worked with metal instead of paint this likely would have been the result.

Sherlock stood impressed and terrified by the carnage of twisted metal and leather that littered the gym. John moved at alpha strength and speed in full fury as another weight sailed through the air and impaled into the wall with a resounding _thunk_.

Sherlock knew John was hurting. He was hurting deeply. Sherlock realized, other than his nieces and nephews, Jerry was the closest thing John had come to being a father.

“I failed him, Sherlock! I… I should have realized his parents couldn’t keep up with his needs. Of course they would not call us for that. And poor Jerry must have been mortified.” John stood in the middle of the floor, his head down. “I was not born into the elite, I know how hard it could be as an alpha. God, I at least had someone who could guide me through most of it and my parents could afford the suppressants when I was of age, but my pre-teenage years were horrible as an alpha until I learned control. I know what the statistics are on teenage omega suicides. I know! Still, I failed him!”

"You did not fail him, John. You and I both spoke to him Sunday night. He was struggling, yes, but all pubescent male omegas struggle through their first couple of years after expressing." Sherlock stepped into the room,  "Neither of us, nor his parents could have predicted the alpha girl at their ages. Her parents ruthlessly shamed Jerry and his parents. Of course they were too embarrassed to call us when it happened. We cannot assist where we do not know there is a problem."

As terrifying as his movements at alpha speed were to have watched, the alpha's sudden stand still was heartbreaking. Arms across his broad chest, John stared out of the window for a long time. Sherlock could not help but notice as the dappled sunlight framed the alpha and gave him an almost burnished hue. It took the silver highlights in his blond hair and gave them an almost platinum glow. John gradually lowered his head into his hands and started to sob. Sunlight caught each tear as they fell from his face to the tossed mat on the floor. Sherlock quietly walked over to him.

“It’s okay, John.” Sherlock whispered.

Sherlock started to raise his arms and hesitated.

_Will you let me be your omega this once?_

He slowly placed a hand onto John’s arm and the onto his back before it gently slid up the rest onto John’s neck.

“It’s not okay!” John said tearfully.

He stepped closer and slid his hand up the muscled arm to hold John’s shoulder.

John does not move forward, but he does not move away.

“No, it is not.” Sherlock agreed softly as he moved in and rested his cheek along John’s head. “But it is what it is.”

“What it is…is…shite.” John whispered despondent.

Sherlock realized Lorimer's death has affected John more than he expected. As much as most know alphas are affected by Hurt Omega pheromones, most forget bonded omegas are equally sensitive to Hurt Alpha, especially when it is their own alpha. Sherlock told himself this as he felt his lips brush his alpha’s forehead. Felt it as he kissed each eyelid, as his lips stopped the salty tracks.

John pulled tightly on Sherlock’s jacket as he leaned back and looked into Sherlock’s eyes, his own eyes silently pleading.

Sherlock felt John’s hand wrap around his waist and Sherlock allowed his arm to settle around John’s back, over the hard muscle he could feel beneath the button-down shirt he wore. John wrapped a hand behind Sherlock’s neck and pulled him closer.

Sherlock wanted to lie to himself that it is just the omega in him responding to the alpha in his arms. Yet, as he pulled John even tighter into his grasp, as he felt John’s arms surround him in a desperate hold, as his hand cupped John’s tear streaked face, felt his thumb as it gently stroked John’s cheek and then grazed along John’s lips, he knew there was one-person William Sherlock Scott Holmes absolutely cannot lie to:

William Sherlock Scott Holmes.

“Please?”

He barely heard the plea from the alpha, but felt the warmth of John's breath across his ear.

“Let me comfort you, my alpha.” He whispers in return.

As he brought his lips to meet John’s at last Sherlock knew.

He wanted this.

(Art Credit: [Sexlock ](http://sexlock.tumblr.com))


	35. Tonight It's Been A Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega Sherlock Holmes offers comfort to a grieving Alpha John Watson the best way an omega can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a total of ten updates this month. That's 150% more than usual. It's been fun, but my holiday is over and I must now return to my weekly Tuesday postings.
> 
> This is the last gift of my birthday month to you. I end it on a good note.

_No._  
_You can’t. Don't do this, John._  
_No._

John screamed at his head to _shut the fuck up_ as Sherlock’s thumb ran lightly over his lips.

_I… I need you, Sherlock. My omega… I…_

“Please?” John absolutely did not care how desperate he sounded as the word fell from his lips.

“Let me comfort you, Alpha.” Sherlock's velvet rumble ghosted his ear.

Something neither will ever be able to define seared through their souls as John felt his omega’s lips against his.

John shivered and gasped.

He felt it as Sherlock’s pulse raced. Knew Sherlock wanted this. Wanted him. Felt it as it echoed in his own head. He touched the pulse at Sherlock’s neck as they kissed, his fingers felt as each gush of blood pushed through his omega’s body.

Both sighed breathlessly against each other.

John felt the bond between them expand.

_This… This is different._

Sherlock’s breath warmed and skin flushed as his natural scent rose. John took a deep sniff and finally understood why he has had such a taste for key lime pie these past months. The slight hint of the citrus, mixed in with a sweet honey base and something as deep, as dark and undefinable as the omega himself washed over and through him. He felt his own growing hardness brush against Sherlock’s.

John said nothing as Sherlock took his hand and led him out of the wreckage of the gym to his bedroom.

_This is not El Enlace. This is real._

He felt as Sherlock nervously twitched even as he slowly unbuttoned John’s shirt and slid it from his shoulders. Those crystalline eyes intense as he pulled the undershirt off as well. Sherlock kissed him again, the warm breath then traveling down along his jaw and to his neck, those lips that kissed across his collarbone and graced the jagged star burst scar at his left shoulder.

John watched as Sherlock slowly undid each button on own his shirt, pale skin gleamed over solid muscles as the fabric from the vest slid up over his head down his arm and fell away. His hands wandered over Sherlock’s pale skin, his fingers ran over biceps and shoulders, wraped around the strong muscles of Sherlock’s upper back before sliding down and around to the flat stomach, muscles hard beneath quivering skin and John toed off his shoes as Sherlock did the same.

John shook from the effort of staying still as Sherlock unzipped his trousers and let John's rapidly swelling member spring free.

_Oh my God!_

“You are magnificent, John.” Sherlock whispered in admiration. He took John's sizeable cock in both hands.

Sherlock checked his memory against what was before him now and knew there was a sizable difference from a year ago. John was trying to control himself then. He is not now and Sherlock watched as the alpha’s cock continued to swell in all its glory. His slick came and he did not try to control it, his earnest desire for John rose as the alpha growled at his touch.

With the freedom of not holding back both Omega Heat and Alpha Rut pheromones rose in the room along with the scent of Sherlock’s slick.

John could feel, actually feel how much Sherlock wanted him and the voices in John’s head silenced in the truth of it.

They tossed their remaining clothing to the floor and Sherlock flushed as John raised an appreciative brow at his omega's erection. Any questions of desire asked and answered before them.

“Christ, I nearly forgot how beautiful you are, my omega.” John's voice dropped to a growl Sherlock had not heard before and the omega shivered in the pleasure of it. “And how well built.”

Their breaths caught as John brought their erections brushed together before John guided his omega backwards and lowered Sherlock to the bed.

The omega hips moved up to meet his. John sucked that lush lower lip between his teeth. John’s mouth sought Sherlock’s and did not let go until he heard and felt the omega purr beneath him, his fingers tangled in Sherlock’s curls.

At first, they moved achingly slow as they reveled in the delicious cock-to-cock friction together.

Sherlock’s head slowly tilted sideways and back as he bared that long elegant neck to John’s lips and trembled as the alpha licked, sucked and ran his teeth along the bond bite. Sherlock's fingers dug into John's waist.

Having denied himself this for so long for, John wanted to savor the moment.

Still, the very hunger for the moment itself could not be denied, as they took all that they gave to each other and then some. John’s fingers traced intoxicating patterns across the omega’s skin and Sherlock finds himself tingling from the impossibly gentle, but definite presence of his alpha’s touch.

John’s raw admiration of his body is displayed in his expression. The omega is as embarrassed as much as he is pleased. Sherlock touches John lightly, but to the alpha it was as if the omega was suddenly everywhere at once as where his caresses went his kisses followed. It was as though John himself could feel what felt good to the omega and how he instinctively moved to reciprocate the feeling within him. Sherlock gasped as John strokes him, the alpha setting his own personal fire to every square inch of the omega.

They quickly learn how to please each other.

With equal reciprocity, a deep moan escapes from Sherlock as John works his way down Sherlock’s body. John cannot help but enjoy Sherlock’s wicked satisfaction when a moan escapes the alpha’s lips. Sherlock cannot help but feel John’s pleasure as the alpha takes the omega’s cock down and caused Sherlock to cry out John’s name. John kisses his way back up the omega’s body until they are face to face again. John positioned himself just at the heat of his omegas slicked opening and feels Sherlock pause.

John stared into those amazing blown pupils and sees and feels the questioning within Sherlock. He feels the omega in his soul. The things neither can yet put into words flow through. Everything changes with this, and within himself, the alpha feels the omega’s plea for him.

_Oh Sherlock, I know my alpha hormones run through your omega blood and you give to me, but am I in your heart as you are in mine?_

Sherlock felt John’s hesitation. He knew what this meant, knew what John needed to hear.

He took John’s face tenderly between his hands and stared longingly into the fathomless deep blue eyes that stared just as wildly into his. He saw the first hints of the blackness indicative of the alpha's imminent core drop.

“My alpha. I. Am. Yours. Take me.”

John felt rather than heard the restrained urgency in Sherlock’s voice as he breached him.

Both froze for a moment, their respective heads thrown back in the glory of the first connection. Then John slid home.

“Omega. So tight… Oh! Oh fuuuuuuck… ” John forced himself to breathe through the pleasure that sang through him as his omega opened to receive him then felt as the walls pulsed and tightened around him.

Sherlock’s fingers dug into John as John’s teeth found the bond bite and sank in. Unlike the first time there was no rejection, no resistance and Sherlock’s body arched from the bed in the throes of his alpha’s possession of him mind, body and soul.

“You’re…. you’re… Oh John… Alpha! You’re huge inside me… Yes!” Sherlock moaned decadently.

Sherlock’s brain shorted out under John’s handling.

“F-fuck Sherlock… you’re so snug around me… You smell so good… feel so… aaahhh!” John's head fell back into an open-mouth groan, punch drunk on Sherlock’s pheromones.

They took each other down and brought each other up in erotic waves neither had never felt with any other before.

It was wild.

It was tender.

It was ferocious.

It was kind.

It was raw.

John took Sherlock’s hand in his, coated it in slick and grasped the omega’s cock between them and then it was _more_.

John began moving in earnest then, trying to keep his spine rolling as he pushed into Sherlock rather than slamming him into the mattress. Sherlock still writhed and twisted as he pushed up to meet John’s thrusts.

The alpha snarled in his ownership of the omega coming apart under him.

The omega pulsed in his power, his teeth bared knowing the alpha was losing control.

John’s name became a mantra, Sherlock’s name a prayer as they took each other apart from the inside out in ways neither had known possible as they simultaneously hit the crescendo of their pleasure and toppled over.

They became aware of the calling within their inner cores.

The desire.

The want.

The absolute _need_.

A need that pushed to the forefront of their beings.

Alpha and Omega pheromones in the air driving the need to peak levels.

The need to be joined.

The need to be knotted.

Alpha and Omega dropped to core.

The omega had never felt such an intense desire to feel his alpha’s large bulge deep inside his being, locking them together.

The pure unadulterated depth of Alpha’s raw need to feel his Omega impaled upon him was relentless and left him breathless.

Omega was not aware of rolling to his hands and knees.

Alpha was not aware of his hands sliding along the pale arse as he rose to his own knees.

Omega was not aware of rocking back and forth before the black filled eyes of his alpha as he presented all of himself in a slick haze of need that absolutely nothing but a knotting from his alpha could fulfill.

At their cores there were no words, just guttural frenzied emotions.

“Alpha!”  
“Omega!”  
“Now!”

Neither Alpha nor Omega were aware of how their entire beings vibrated with the desperate imperative to be knotted together.

All Alpha and Omega knew was the one shining moment the Alpha’s hands gripped Omega’s hips in an unyielding hold that will leave bruises for over a week as Alpha entered Omega in one long smooth continuous stroke.

Alpha growled feral

Omega keened harmonic.

“{‘YOURS!’}”

A guttural alpha roar ripped in perfect counter point, the omega harmonic note soared as alpha’s knot crowned deep within omega.

The heat travelled Alpha’s spine as he desperately thrust into Omega and breathed in his heady scent. His teeth clamped down on Omega’s shoulder as both bodies convulsed with the sheer joy of the throes of a new orgasm.

Omega keened in a harmonic register Alpha never heard before as he clamped down tight on Alpha's knot, delirious with bliss, he pulled Alpha as far into his body as he could, his low harmonics seemingly made the knot swell more and felt himself being flooded with Alpha’s liquid heat.

Alpha panted in the exquisite pleasurable pain of feeling himself swell more inside Omega tightness as he came yet again and again.

Just Alpha.

Just Omega.

They held a brutal pace as the cycle of the alpha growling as his knot swelled and omega keening as he pulsed tighter around it repeated until omega and alpha collapsed to the bed and panted, their bodies trembled from the exertion.

Their breathing labored, they stayed that way for a long moment, wrapped around each other, still knotted. Their sweaty bodies slowly climbed down from the precarious height their multiple orgasms had taken them.

Sherlock shuddered in pleasure of the feel of John's knot pressed against his walls. The heat of his alpha's come pooled inside him satiated him. Flares of warmth bloomed within him and all he could feel was _home_. He was where he should be and didn't want to leave it.

“Happy Anniversary?” John said rather sheepishly his voice hoarse.

John had not said anything that morning when Sherlock left the house. Thinking the alpha forgot, Sherlock was not going to bring the subject up. 

_Of course, he remembered._

Sherlock grasped John’s left hand, kissed the back of it and grinned, his own voice barely above a whisper “Almost.”

“Oh right, it’s not officially a year until _later_ this evening.” John chuckled. Both were drenched in sweat, with mussed hair, drained but sated. John closed his left fist and laid it against Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock said nothing as he wrapped his right hand around John's fist and spooned backwards into the alpha, the knot still kept them joined. He felt another flare of warmth as John licked and kissed the nape of his neck.

It had been nearly a decade since John last had sex with an omega. He had never felt like this. Never had he knotted one so thoroughly that he did not have immediately release after climax. Never had he wanted to stay knotted in the exquisite torture that felt so _right_.

| “John, I don't know what happened that you only date betas now. Don't know why you're wary of omegas, but you're going to meet the right omega for you and there will come moment you will just _know_.”|

John sighed with a contentment never felt before as he remembered Walter's words.

He knew, at least the alpha in him knew, the moment he spoke for Sherlock at the hospital. Now the man in him knew as well.

Neither say another word but the mood has changed completely. Flowing from the desperate and forceful to calm and relaxed as John slowly shrank, his seed seeping out. Sherlock turned in John's arms so that they face each other again.

Sherlock's mass fit against his own as the omega lowered his head to the crook of John's neck. Even with his eyes closed John naturally found the bond bite and gave it gentle licks. He enjoyed the feel of the vibrations of his omega's silent purr.

John grinned as Sherlock realized he purred and immediately stopped.

Sherlock popped up his head with a pout feeling John's mirth only to find his pale eyes stared into depths of John's. The alpha ran his fingers through his omega's drying locks as they returned to their curly state.

The sun, starting to set in the sky, made Sherlock’s room bright in its glow.

The light shined through the window and hit John's drenched silvered blond hair just so. Sherlock's fingers lightly traced over the scarred left shoulder. His was not  a perfect body; life and being a soldier had seen to that. This was a strong, rugged body that was well lived in. It was well proportioned and solid. He laid his head on John's shoulder. Felt as John brought his arm up and the alpha's fingers caressed his hair.

 _Beautiful_.

_This is what da Vinci was trying to capture in his Vitruvian Man._

John was finger combing Sherlock's sex mussed hair back into place when he heard something he had never heard before.

Sherlock’s stomach rumbled.

Loudly.

John immediately sat up and Sherlock grinned at his alpha’s near gobsmacked expression.

“Oh! Did I ever mention sex makes me _really_ hungry?"

Art Credit: [havetardiswilltimetravel (tumblr)](http://havetardiswilltimetravel.tumblr.com/image/56528224848)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you on Tuesday.


	36. I Can't Tell You Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alpha, the omega and the beta try to figure out what's going on with one another.

“Good evening. What the bloody hell happened to the gym?”

Sherlock and John were showered, dressed and in the kitchen. John was chopping vegetables for dinner. Sherlock was doing research on his laptop when Mary arrived home from her surgery. Sherlock watched as she stopped and paused a moment as she reached up for a drinking glass. A look flashed across her face as if having decided something. She reached not for an everyday drinking glass then, but one of the cut crystal, a gift from their wedding.

_She’s in a mood and we’re about to add to it._

“Jerry Lorimar committed suicide today.” a flash of hurt crossed John’s face as he answered, Sherlock felt it as well.

“Oh no! Why didn’t you call m…” She gasped and turned to John.

The crystal had shattered in Mary’s hand.

“Shite!”

Both men stopped and looked to her.

Mary unthinkingly reached for the broken crystal with her bare hand and cut herself on the sharp pieces. “Bloody hell!”

“Mary, stop!” John grabbed her hand and shook it over the sink dislodging the bloody shards she still held.

“Take her to the dining room, I’ll get your kit.” Sherlock headed to the bathroom for John’s well-stocked first-aid kit and brought it to the dining room.

“Thanks.” John immediately dug into the kit for what he needed, his concentration focused on his wife’s hand.

“Why didn't you tell me? I’d have come home sooner.” Mary cupped her husband’s face with her free hand. John gently pushed the hand away as he glanced to Sherlock.

Mary caught the look.

“Sherlock?” Mary raised a brow.

“l was atvthe school for a case when it happened. The school had called and told John. I wasn’t aware he was on Lorimar’s emergency contact list. He had done 95% of that damage by the time I arrived. I simply helped clean up the immediate mess. I would ask my brother to send minions and it would be fixed in a couple of days, but I know he will bug the place. I’ll go through different channels.” Sherlock answered.

He frowned slightly as he observed a very guilty looking John with Mary. The alpha had none of his usual easiness with his wife on display. Mary seemed a little pensive as well as she looked at her husband.

_She knows something is off with John. And oh… Yes!_

“I’ll go clean up the pieces.” Sherlock volunteered and went back into the kitchen. He cleaned up the pieces he saw, carefully collected one bloody shard and placed it in a plastic food storage bag.

A bit later, John and Mary emerged from the dining room. John with the closed kit, Mary with her hand stitched and bandaged. John handed Sherlock the kit, scrubbed his hands and continued with dinner preparation. Sherlock put the kit back where it belonged and returned to the kitchen.

“Now that you are home to deal with him, Mary, I am going to head off to Baker Street.” Sherlock reentered ”I have a few experiments going that are at a stages I need to monitor before Mrs. Hudson gets to them.”

“But isn’t it your anniversary? I thought you’d two want to celebrate.” Mary arched a brow at Sherlock.

Sherlock bit his lip and glanced to his alpha.

_I think we have that covered, even if accidentally. Don’t we my alpha?_

John looked up with a pained expression and said nothing as he went back to chopping vegetables. Mary glanced between the two men.

_Oh, he’s_ not _telling her. He's alpha it's_ _not up to me to tell her._

Sherlock closed his laptop and left the kitchen.

_I don’t think you want an audience for that argument._

Sherlock grabbed a few things from his room and silently left the house.

_Perhaps it’s best all-around if I stay away for a couple of days._

* * *

  
John closed his eyes a moment as he heard the front door open and close with Sherlock’s hasty exit.

_What was that about? Shite._

“Clearly, not celebrating tonight Mary.” John shook his head unable to look at Mary.

_Christ, I wanted to tell her with both of us here. Why did he leave so quickly?_

“No, of course not, sorry I brought it up.” Mary shook her head. She slid her arms around his waist.

As in the dining room, John gently moved her hands away “I’m sorry Mary.”

_I can’t. Not until we tell her and I hope she forgives me._

“I understand love, here let me get that. My hand is good enough to finish this.” Mary moved to the side and took the knife, vegetables and cutting board from his hands “Are you going to be okay, love? Is he going to be? I know how much you both liked the kid.”

_Is he going to be okay?_

_Sherlock had done everything in his power to not let this happen._ _The Ancient Forms, the threat the day after._

John had took pains himself to use a closed left hand around the omega. A show of his power and dominance, but not love.

_We all but wore placards that screamed “Do Not Touch.” We both had._

“Thanks. I don’t know. To be honest I was all into my own hurt. I did not ask him about his feelings. He seemed okay.”

“Some alpha you are” Mary teased, then saw John’s face “John! God, I’m kidding! You’ve been a fantastic alpha. Exemplary, considering Sherlock is far from the ordinary omega. I was just trying to ease the mood a little.”

_Christ! She is right though, I was in my own hurt over Jerry. I did not think of him. He left so fast, did he not want to be here? He came to me willingly this afternoon, but did he really want to? Oh god, I overwhelmed him with my hurt and now he is ashamed he gave in to me! Worse, I know I fully dropped. With my hurt running through him he must have dropped to his omega core as well. He can’t even look at me with Mary around, but he’s not in the wrong – I am._

_Christ! I can’t tell Mary, yet. That will make it worse for him having her know before we’ve really had a chance to talk._

_What have I done?_

* * *

  
“What is going on between you and my husband?” Mary appeared at Baker Street two days later.

“What are you talking about?” Sherlock looked up from the pipette he held.

“John has been really quiet these past couple of days since Jerry Lorimar passed.”

“I imagine it is because the man is grieving. He did care for the boy.” Sherlock squatted down as he carefully squeezed a couple of drops of liquid onto a Petri dish.

“And you didn’t?” Mary asked surprised.

“Didn’t what? Care for the boy?” Sherlock stood straight again. “I did not wish any harm to befall him. I was more than willing to help the young omega and checked in with him days before he…died. Still, that is a far cry from caring. John cared, the boy’s parents cared deeply. Did caring save Jerry Lorimar’s life?”

“No.” Mary shook her head sadly.

“Then why would I make that mistake?” He asked.

Sherlock arched a brow, surprised by Mary’s expression of disbelief.

_If anyone should not be surprised by my reticence in such a situation, it should be she._

“Do you care about anything or anyone?” Mary asked, “Outside of yourself, that is.”

_Of course, I do, Mary. You, however, are not among them._

“What difference does it make.” Sherlock said casually as he placed a cover on the petri dish and swirled the drops from the pipette around carefully. “It may help improve a life, but in the end, caring does not save one. The doctor has lost patients before, he’ll be fine.”

“You find it easy, do you? To not care?” Mary frowned.

_To not care about you? Quite easy._

“Yes. This is not news to my alpha. He understands.” Sherlock answered instead.

Mary arched a brow catching his tone, “Since when is John _your_ _alpha_?”

“Since yesterday was our anniversary as you so nicely reminded us.” He said smoothly.

Mary’s eyes narrowed.

_Oh, did not like that did you? Let’s try this on for size…_

“We’re stuck with each other, Mary. John would never unbond me, by letting the bond atrophy.” Sherlock nonchalantly picked up a slide. “In spite of your sincerest wishes to the contrary, I’m not going anywhere.”

Something dark flashed in Mary’s eyes and Sherlock waited for it.

“That is not true. I do not want you to go. You’d just be someone else’s problem and I would not wish you on anyone.” Mary tilted her head slightly, the venom in her voice all but dripped “However, if you would just follow that first instinct you had last year and crawled somewhere and died…? Well… That would solve everyone’s problem, wouldn’t it? Care to give it a try?”

_And there are the claws._

Sherlock took a breath ready to drop truths to wipe the self-satisfied smirk from her face, but thought of John and changed his mind.

“Get out.”

“Why isn’t my husband talking to me?” Mary insisted.

“Ask your husband!” Sherlock insisted louder as he sat and focused the microscope, realized he forgot the slide and reached for it.

“He’s not talking to me!”

“Really? Then let me join him in his endeavor. Get. Out.” He pointed to the door.

Mary was about to say something, Sherlock knew it, his eyes narrowed as he lifted his head, but she clearly changed her mind. 

_Coward_.

“¡Vete al diablo!” she snarled hotly instead.

“¡Tú primero!” he responded with equal heat. 

Sherlock internally grinned at her surprise before he looked down to his slide again and ignored her until she left at last.

_It’s been two days. John has not told her. She is here because of John’s grieving for Jerry. He tells her nearly everything, yet he has not told her this._

_Why?_

But Sherlock knew why.

_Attraction be damned! He was trying to be honorable and I threw myself at him when he was hurting too much over Jerry to resist. It would not have happened otherwise. He wanted nothing to do with me._

_He does not want her to know, because he's ashamed._

_What have I done?_

Sherlock using microscope (Pintrest)

  
Art Credit: Just Look Up - tumblr   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “¡Vete al diablo!” = Go to Hell!  
> “¡Tú primero!” = You first!


	37. I Used To Listen, I Used To Hear,  Now I Don't Hear At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Hamish Watson is Alpha.  
> And Alpha went near blind with fury.  
> HOW DARE HE!

John was done with his volunteer surgery for the day. It was a half day, but felt like the longest shift ever served and he included military stints. His Jag was in the shop for routine maintenance, he slumped over the steering of the rental. Grateful for the work day to be over, but feeling out of sorts in the rental provided.

He knew it was not the people it was him.

John Watson was in _a mood_. He drove around for a while to think and tray to get out of the funk he was in.

He had been for nearly a week at work and at home. Sherlock had been understandably avoiding the house. They only saw each other yesterday because it was Jerry Lorimar’s funeral. John had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to the omega. Sherlock had not said a word the entire service. Mary stood at his left and Sherlock appeared out of nowhere on his right. He smiled at the omega grateful to see him, but the smile was not returned. And when the service was over, as John gave his condolences again to the Jerry’s parents, Sherlock had disappeared again. Phone messages were short and brief, texts were borderline rude with their near monosyllabic curtness.

Until yesterday he had not seen Sherlock since…

_Say it John, since you made love to him. Admit it, you begged him. He’s a strong omega, but he is an omega. They cannot deny their alphas when they are hurting as I was, not even him. He thinks you used him and he can’t bear to be around you now._

_I can’t help but want to be around him, but I can’t have him and still love my wife, even if I’m not sure my wife loves me enough anymore._

_What have I done?_

He was going to have to go to Baker Street to make it right somehow. He’s going to have to talk to Sherlock. Together they will tell Mary as he originally thought. Figure it out from there.

He was about to start the engine when his mobile rang. He grimaced seeing the caller ID.

_Mary._

He was about to speak when he realized he heard voices speaking. Mary was already in conversation with someone.

A heated conversation from the sound of it.

“…I've played nice with you because I love him and I will do anything, _anything_ to make and keep him happy. Understand. There is nothing in this world that I would not do to stop that happening. I've put up with the likes of you for a year for him! You take and take and take and what have you given in return?”

Though Mary's voice was somewhat muted, John could tell she was in a major snit. He realized the phone must have accidentally dialed as he also heard the jingle of keys. The mobile must be near the top of her bag for him to hear her at all. Even muffled her voice was at its most viperish. He has rarely heard those tones outside of when she worked with MSF. Even then it was in protection of those in her charge. This level of heat was disconcerting.

John knew who Mary was speaking to before he heard the familiar baritone of his omega.

“Love him? How could you possibly say you love him, Mary? You are not honest with him! If you find me so abhorrent you should have said something from the beginning. From the start you have smiled in my face whenever he is round, then snipe at me the moment his back turned. I am Second Mate in this house not by anyone’s desire. In the beginning it was not my place to say anything, Second Mate does not speak ill of the spouse. Yes, he and I have cast most of the rules aside, but you are his wife, his priority is always to you first. He is my alpha, I followed his lead. If you did not want me here all you had to do was tell him. You have compounded the lie all these months. He does not know you at all!”

John had only heard Sherlock yell at Anderson with such disdain and that was mild compared to the anger in the omega’s voice now.

_What the hell does he mean, I do not know my own wife‽_

It was silent for a long moment. John would have thought the connection had dropped were it not for the seconds that continued to tick by on his display before he heard Sherlock’s voice again.

“…ved with him all these years and John did not know? Oh! Oh! You went to different doctors for your tests, didn’t you? What husband, even an Alpha doctor is going to gainsay a beta fertility doctor’s results when it's not his specialty? John would have never questioned the results given him. Just as I hadn't when I read the file Mycroft gave me when we first met. Oh! You’re good. Now the initial results of the blood test make sense. You are not infertile because of some…”

The conversation was somewhat muted this time. John could hear Sherlock speaking, but could not hear the words clearly.

_Because of some...? Some what? Shite! What the hell are they talking about‽_

There was nothing John could do but wait and listen for more conversation until it cut off.

“What have I done to you to incur such animosity, Mary?”

“You’ve made him fall in love with you!”

John slumped in his car seat. She knew. Of course, she knew. Mary often knew John better than he knew himself.

“What are you talking about?  John does not love me, he can’t! Alpha cannot love Second Mate!”

_That’s not true. I can and I do. God knows I tried not to._

“He does not love me.” Sherlock repeated his voice almost too low to be heard. “He's yours."

Mary's bitter laughter in response spoke volumes.

“Are you bloody kidding me! You two have broken damn near every rule under the Ancient Forms possible, you just said so! From the moment he first mentioned you to me after that accident on the highway, before he even knew your damned bloody name – you were his, Sherlock, even if he himself did not know it yet. All we wanted was one thing...”

Sherlock had fallen silent. John knew it was because a thought just dropped into that brain of his. He can all but see the slight frown between those dark brows as the thought settles.

_Mary don't…_

“Oh, it comes to you now, does it?” Mary’s tone sounds satisfied, vindicated.

_I will not force it on the unwilling and he has made it abundantly clear he is unwilling._

“No. I will not.” Sherlock responded as if hearing John's thought.

“You are Second Mate, you can give us children, but you refuse.”

“Us?” Sherlock's voice was tight.

John knew that voice. He had heard it once before when he unleashed on Mycroft. The omega’s full rage was about to spike and it was not going to be pretty.

“Yes, us. John and I."

_Was it really so abhorrent, omega? The idea of bearing children? Or was it just the idea or bearing my children?_

It is inherent in all alphas to want to sire. John is an alpha. He had gone up and down the emotional roller coaster with his beta wife regarding children. They were on the upswing again, having just started the search for a Second Mate when John chose to save Sherlock’s life effectively eliminating the potential of his having pups of his own when the omega was clearly adamant against having any. Still, John could not lie to himself. Still, for a year, deep down in places where John kept secret desires even from himself hidden, a part of him still wanted children. A tiny, tiny part of him still secretly hoped he could get Sherlock to like him and Mary enough to one day give them this willingly.

“No.”

John barely heard Sherlock, but the sound of the quiet syllable was unyielding.

“No?” Mary's voice repeated.

“You heard me.”

“As you said, my husband loves me. I could convince him to take you.”

_That was a lie. There was not that much convincing in the world that I would resort to what you know I consider omega rape._

John knew Mary knew that.

“I would abort first."

Any hope John had, tiny or otherwise, was immediately dashed with those words.

_What?_

“What?” Mary gasped simultaneously.

“If by some miracle your husband sired a litter on me I would not bring them to fruition." Sherlock snarled.

“You need your alpha's permission, you can't abort!”

John could hear the shock in Mary’s voice.

“Oh, you forget who I am. Mrs. Watson.” Sherlock had replied coolly.

John went pale at the words.

_Mycroft. He'd go to his brother to get it done. He would and by the time I found out, if I found out, there would be nothing I could do. Except maybe kill him in kind._

“Oh my God! You would. But they would be John's babies!” Mary sounded appalled.

“I. Will. Kill. Them….”

John shuddered in fury at the cold statement from the omega hearing a definite connection between the Holmes brothers. Mycroft Holmes, The Iceman, Frosty himself could not have wrapped more glaciers around those words.

The alpha roared when the phone disconnected.

There was a tone to Sherlock's voice John had never heard before. He knew the omega was serious. Sherlock meant every word.

It is in an alphas nature to want a pack. Their lessening numbers drive that imperative deep. John had managed to push that desire far to the back of his mind in deference to his love of Mary. John told himself being Uncle Johnny would be enough. Still, all alphas want to protect what is theirs even in the hypothetical.

John Hamish Watson is Alpha.

And the alpha went near blind with fury.

_HOW DARE HE!_

John felt the steering wheel groan under the strength of his grip and got out of the car. He could not be behind the wheel of a vehicle. It was too dangerous. Standing next to one was no help as his fist dented the bonnet in one powerful slam. Too late he realized it was a rental not his car.

_Fuck!_

The ice of Sherlock’s words echoes in John’s mind even as he berates himself.

[“Thank you, John Watson, thank you for saving me. Thank you for saving my life.”]

[“So, my womb is now beholden to him?”]

[“I. Will. Kill. Them….”]

_I have been fooling myself. He is grateful I kept him alive that is all._

_The day Jerry died was his omega instinct responding to my alpha pain._

_Nothing more._

_Second Mate cannot love._

_Omega will not love._

John does not notice as his left hand closed into a fist so tight his knuckles whitened. A cold fury washed over him.

_Then neither will Alpha._


	38. The Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When face to face with a furious Alpha John, Omega Sherlock learns sometimes realizing the truth does not set you free, but traps you when you learn it too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone once told me they like to suffer for their Johnlock. Be careful what you ask for...

Sherlock had just taken his long coat off when John entered Baker Street and closed the downstairs door behind him. He heard his alpha’s familiar footsteps ascending moments later.

_John! He must have been waiting for me to come home._

Sherlock was about to walk up to John, but something in the alpha’s scent and demeanor made him stop. John Watson stood just inside the door. He looked the same, silver-blond hair, his strong build, jeans, shirt, jumper, loafers – everything. It all looked the same as when Sherlock saw him last and yet…

_Not._

"Evening." John’s voice was calm, too calm. 

Sherlock was immediately on alert.

John held himself stiffly. Stiffer than his usual military stance and there is a decided coldness in those blue eyes, now a cold slate under the living room lights. More than anything though, it was his smile.

A bitter, cold flinch of a smile.

It was that grimace that usually warned Sherlock John was near a breaking point, but he had no idea what has pressured the good doctor to such a point. Sherlock had seen this mood in John before. It is a dangerous mood. But he has never seen that specific mood directed towards him. 

Nearly every instinct in Sherlock said one thing: _run_.

Nearly.

He knew if John directed that formidable alpha rage towards him he would not be able to do a damned thing. With startling clarity Sherlock realized he would not even try, not even if John were physically attacking him. 

And the crystal-clear realization of why startled the detective to his core. He had long passed the point of no return and had not realized it until just then. Sherlock cared for John. He wanted him, needed him. He needed this man in his life more than he had ever needed any drug.

And yet…

_Damn John for holding his morals in such regard, for being a good man with the ability to make others want to be just as good!_

Because Sherlock wanted that.

_It cannot be._

_No._

How could he have been so blind even to himself to not see it until now. And yet he knew for the lie it was. Telling himself that he did not care. That he needed no one was a lie he perpetrated upon himself for years before Victor and again in the time before he met John.

_Second Mate’s heart is mine own. The forms explicitly state that he cannot. It does not say that I cannot, but still…_

"John?"

The man’s name tumbled from his lips as his mind whirled in the truth. In everything, wondering _How?_ A part of him rejoiced, a part of him wished it could not be. 

The doctor in front of him was in a cold rage on the outside and yet so much hurt within.

_Why? What happened?_

“Sherlock, we need to talk.”

Sherlock remembered when John himself had explained the dread most have of those words. Yet those are the words John chose to use now. And for the first time Sherlock fully understood the dread of them as he nodded.

The alpha was silent and unusually still as he gathered his words. The longer he took, the more Sherlock felt the walls closing in, though he could not think as to why.

"Is this what it's like when I go into my mind palace?" Sherlock asked after a while. "Because this stillness, this silence of yours, John, it is relentless."

When the alpha finally spoke, Sherlock wished he himself had remained silent.

“You want to stay here at Baker Street? Fine. I will not stop you anymore.” John stood where he was by the door. 

"What?!" 

"Wow. Mr. Always One Up On Everyone is _surprised_.” John sneered lightly at him. It is such a wrong sound coming from him to Sherlock, so wrong. “Bet you never saw this coming."

_He won't come near me. He wants to hurt me._

John stood there, so rigid, so cold, nothing like the John Sherlock knew. It is as if someone had swapped personalities with John. His body, that beautiful body, was the same but his personality was so vastly different.

Sherlock blinked several times as for the very first time a fear of his alpha snaked into his being. 

“Why?” Sherlock had not meant to ask. He hated the weakness in his voice at the word, but there it was.

“From the beginning you never wanted to be with me, Sherlock. I tried being nice, tried being patient, tried being a friend. After what happened last week…? I’ve tried, now I’m just tired.” John shrugged “You just wanted protection, not a friendship. Fine. You are free to stay here, alone, just you and the only thing important to you – your precious work. I’m _done_.”

Sherlock could not move. He could not breathe. His limbs seem to have fused into each other. Sherlock stared at John, unable to speak, unable to look at him, yet unable to look away.

_This is the man who has protected me. The man who has nearly killed for me. Mary was worried about the alpha falling for the omega. No one, including myself, considered the remote possibility of the reverse. The doctor who has somehow made the consulting detective fall in love with him. This is now the man casting me out. How? Why?_

Sherlock tried to pin down reasons, but his mind was distracted, for one of the very few times in his life Sherlock Holmes could not concentrate.

And then there was the part of him, that could.

The hateful part of himself that whispered a little too loud at times.

_Of course. What have you done in return, in appreciation Sherlock? What did you expect?_

_Nothing. Not a damned thing._

And yet this revelation, this misgiving that John would now be anywhere, anywhere but by his side - it felt blasphemous.

_Like a vile expletive spoken aloud in a cathedral._

"You know, I'm actually relieved it has finally come to this. I am so done with you." John continued, his words cold. "Treating me like a servant, like a pet. Treating me - your Alpha - like I was as much of an idiot as the rest of them out there. I know, and I know you know, that I was already better than the most and I won’t deny, being around you has made me better still. But just because I cannot be compared the magnificence that is Sherlock Holmes in the room does not mean I am to be compared to chattel!”

Each word that fell from John’s lips fell with revulsion and fury, stabbed an icy blade into Sherlock. He never thought he could see so much loathing in John's eyes for him and mentally curled away from it, instinctively, painfully. Every lesson Mycroft had drilled into him as a brilliant child mind trying to survive the slings and arrows of a cruel world who would never understand him as a man and even less an omega man came into play.

_But John had understood me, hadn’t he? He knew me where others did not. Was I wrong? After a year he knows me, understands me no better than the rest?_

"Alpha cannot love Second Mate be damned! From the beginning when I called you mine at the hospital. When you came to me with the Ancient Forms I first broke the rules to have you. Tell me, Sherlock, did you ever suspect? Just once? That I could have possibly loved you? Did you ever give yourself a chance to love me? " John cocked his head to one side. "You didn't, did you? Not even once. Was I not worth it to you to even try?"

Sherlock said nothing, because he knew John was right. He entered this marriage so utterly determined to be miserable.  He never believed another person could love him again. He had not believed that this one man… this man actually cared beyond his alpha duty to protect what is his.

_I should have seen. I should have known._

"Who would want to continue to stay around you, Sherlock? Heaven forbid you would let anyone want to care. You have to let yourself be a friend in order to keep a friend." John took a step forward, as his cruel smile fell just a little. The pain inside the alpha breaking to the surface, “I am certain I could have loved you so deeply. But now I can’t. I won’t do that to myself. I refuse to let my heart break over you any more than it already had. I am done. So, you want to be left alone? To stay here? Then stay.”

Sherlock wanted to grab John by the shoulders and shake him.

_Any more than it already had? Meaning it does not break anymore, because he does not love anymore_

_Why?  Why would you do this, John? Why would you tell me this now, when it’s too late? When you've stopped._

Sherlock’s vision blurred. He knew why, but he refused to blink. He refused to give John the satisfaction of seeing him so close to emotional like this.

_THIS IS YOUR FAULT!_

Sherlock could not help but think, if John had not done this, had not made him want this, he would not hurt so much right now.

“All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock _._ ” Mycroft had said to him once.

_And loving is a dangerous disadvantage._

Sherlock wanted the man he knew last week. The man that bickered, that got him into crap telly, that investigated with him. That had loved him tenderly. He wanted it back, that warmth, that affection, but it has gone.

_And that is my fault for letting myself want it so much._

John took another step forward, and Sherlock wished he had not, because he felt trapped.

“John, I…” Sherlock started, but then shook his head and pressed his lips together.

"You are an idiot!" John shook his own head, "You won’t let yourself feel. You god damned...machine!"

Sherlock flinched.

He might have been a machine emotionally once. He might have wished to be even more of one once.

_Once._

Now Sherlock Holmes needed John Watson. He did not realize how much he needed the man in his life until he appeared in it. He did not dare to question it, in fact had refused to question it. John was everything he had yet to acknowledge even to himself, deep down inside, that he was everything he really wanted. Yet he could not make himself say so in the face of the furious man before him now.

“Sod this. I’m done. You don't deserve me.” John turned to him one last time, then left the room, the door closed behind quietly him.

The quietness of his alpha’s leaving was a greater damnation than any slam could have ever been. A slam is borne of passion. This apathy from the doctor was soul shattering.

Sherlock’s body betrayed him at last as his eyes, that threatened with tears, now blinked, and he can feel the hot tracks of moisture on his cheeks. He said nothing; he had nothing to say.

It's ironic, isn't it? The man who showed him he no longer needed to be by himself in the world is the man who now left him all alone in it.

_How pitifully ironic._

Sherlock was close, that close, closer than _thatclose_ to instinct.

He almost dropped to his knees and begged John to listen to him. To give him a chance, to let his alpha see that he does feel.

Yet it was that weakness, one he had never felt before, not even with Victor, which stopped him. It was a desperation that scared him more than anything ever had since he stopped fearing his father. 

It was the fear of being that desperate for anyone and anything that locked his resolved and he remained silent.

And just like that Alpha John Watson is gone to him.

_He is gone, and I am alone._

Sherlock thought he had been alone before he pulled up alongside John Watson Jaguar to Jaguar.

It was nothing compared to how alone Sherlock felt now that John has left.

“One more thing, Sherlock.”

“John!” Sherlock looked up with hope as the doctor appeared at the door again, but John spoke before he could.

“I will keep you alive until you find a suitable alpha, that is all. In the interim, { _Don’t call me, write, text, telegraph, smoke signal – whatever. _Do not speak to me!__ }”

Sherlock opened his mouth and try as he might. He could not make himself say the words out loud.

They just would not come.

The furious expression on John’s face seared Sherlock’s heart as the alpha left.

_But I love you!_

 

_Image Credit: Sherlock x Reader_

| 

_Image Credit: Silent-Mika  ([tumblr](http://silent-micka.tumblr.com/post/179287612241))_  
  
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	39. And Now You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Alpha John Watson and Omega Sherlock Holmes, good and bad, it is a day of serious revelations.

“How’s your hand feeling?” John kissed the bandage of the appendage in question.

“It’s fine.” Mary half-smiled “By the time I get down there, finish the processing and arrive to the new site, it's almost healed, I'll be fine. I forgot how sharp crystal can be. I have to give you credit, you really can stitch up a wound, doctor.”

John resisted the urge to sigh heavily.

The night before Jerry Lorimar’s suicide he, Sherlock and Mary had a pleasant dinner. Pleasant in that Sherlock was in a good mood having helped solve a triple homicide, the details of which he happily regaled them with over dinner. It had been the first civil dinner between the three of them in a week since Mary had dropped her bomb that she had taken on another assignment with _Médecins Sans Frontières_.

She had stayed in London over a year this run. It’s the longest she had been away from _MSF_. While John was hardly surprised when she announced she was heading back to Bolivia, he was taken aback to learn that she had already made contact, filled the necessary paperwork, arranged travel and everything before she told him. That was different.

Sherlock, genius that he is, had already figured out she was leaving. He took one look at John’s face and realized the alpha was not as informed. He left for Baker Street that night, giving him and Mary time alone. Sherlock was good like that.  The self-claimed sociopath always seemed to know when it’s an excellent time to disappear. Unfortunately, his arrivals still needed a little work. A couple of weeks earlier John realized Sherlock had come back to the house earlier than expected from a case. He had caught traces of the omega’s scent at the front door and knew Sherlock had definitely come home, but was not on the premises that morning. He realized the omega had caught him and Mary _in flagrante delicto_ in the living room and had disappeared again. When he and Sherlock spoke on the phone later that day neither mentioned it. Mary made her announcement at dinner that night and Sherlock had disappeared again the next day not to return until the day before Jerry Lorimar died.

The accidental phone call was two days after Lorimar’s funeral.

Molly’s phone call to John was two days after that.

> “Hey John, are you and Sherlock trying to test me?” The affable doctor called him. This was no longer unusual. When the consulting detective was in one of his many can’t be bothered with the idiots of the world moods, Molly and Greg often called John in search of the elusive detective. After a while some of the calls were actually to John for John himself.
> 
> “Hi Molly. Well I’m not, at least not that I know of. What’s up?”
> 
> “That bloodied crystal that you gave me. The DNA and DNAAOT tests you asked for made it an exact match to the unknown female alpha Sherlock had another lab tech identify the week before. The exact match came up in the system.”
> 
> John was exceeding glad he was alone, seated at his desk and Molly could not see his face.
> 
> “Sherlock and I must have got our wires crossed or something. Sorry about the unnecessary work.” John really could not have told what other lies he had said to Molly two seconds after he disconnected, but he assumed it must have been convincing enough.
> 
> He had sat at his desk stunned.
> 
> _She’s an alpha. A female alpha._
> 
> The woman he’s known for nearly a decade as a beta is one hell of a liar.
> 
> _His wife of six years is a fucking god damned lying alpha!_
> 
> _Worse - Sherlock knew. He knew for a week and did not tell me! Now he chooses to respect boundaries!_
> 
> Sherlock was already staying at Baker Street, when John commanded him. If Mary noticed anything was amiss with the alpha and omega, she said nothing. She continued in the charade that has been her side of their relationship apparently since the day they met.
> 
> _What the hell else has she lied or kept silent about?_
> 
> Knowing she was leaving John decided two could play that game and said nothing to her.

It galled him to no end. For he was always - always aware of what he had thought was her beta physiology John had tried to be a careful alpha lover to his wife.  He had held himself back enough for both of them to have very satisfying orgasms while not hurting her.

John thought of the times he woke up next to her in a panic because he feared he lost control and had knotted her. He was always so relieved and yes, vainly proud of himself for maintaining her safety even when in the throes. At most she admitted being a little sore, but fine. Now he knew why. It filled him with such anger to realize he need not have bothered.

Last night, their last night together, for the first time in their now six years of marriage, eight years of knowing each other, he consciously gave her everything as an alpha when he fucked her as she was alpha to alpha. He did not lie to himself, there was no love involved.

It was an alpha hate fuck.

People say a beta’s pupil will be blown, but in reality, however slight, there is always a rim of iris remaining, whereas an omega’s pupils will extend past the rim of the iris, there is no color left. It is only with alphas that the entire eye ball will go full black.  John was relentless as he slammed into Mary and for the first time observed with his own eyes as her own eyes went full black as she dropped to core then fully knotted her.

John realized that is what Sherlock must have seen the night he walked in on them and left. Sherlock took advantage of the crystal breaking to go for a blood sample and take it to forensics.

_Is that not why I held on to the shard I found? and had it tested_

_Perhaps after all this time some little part of me suspected? Well, now I know._

_God help me._

John and Mary stood together at Heathrow’s check-in, it was their last few minutes together. In less than twenty-four hours she will be in La Paz where she will be picked up by the team there, processed and taken to parts unknown. John knew where she was going, some tiny village in the middle of nowhere that might as well be parts unknown as far as he was concerned. She said it was a new locale, working with friends she had worked with before, she was doing a short visit this time, just a couple of months. Then she’d be back in London again and set up for a longer tour if she liked it.

The boarding call for Mary’s flight came over the PA system again. They had stalled as long as they could. She was checked-in, but she still had to go through TSA security and make it to her gate.

“John can I ask something?” Mary kissed his cheek.

“Sure, Mary…”

“I will be gone two months this run. You can see what kind of life you’ll have with him alone. And… and if you still want me when I come back, then fine, but it has to be just you and I John. You and I. I’ve tried, but I can’t compete with an omega. At least not that omega. I can’t live like this, wondering when I’ll lose you to him, because it’s not even an _if_ in my mind anymore. If you need to top him off every now and then to keep him alive because the bond is weakening fine, but he goes back to Baker Street to live his own life away from us. Seriously think about it. It is an option. One that might just be doable and make everyone happy one way or another in the long run.”  Mary gripped the handle of her rolling duffle tight.

“Why did you not tell me, Mary? And why now?” John asked surprised at this moment of truth from her.

“Because I did not want to be one of those clichéd beta wives jealous of an omega Second Mate for no reason. This way we will both know.” Mary thrust her hands in her trouser pockets, barely able to look at him. “Because I do have reason to be jealous of him, John. You know I do.”

_Maybe you did. I do not know now._

“What have I ever done ... hmm? ...my whole life ... to deserve you?” John gave her arm a final squeeze and let her go.

Mary smiled weakly as she grbbed her duffle and walked away.

“And John?" Mary turned and called to her husband once more. " just promise me one more thing while I’m gone?” 

“Anything, Mare…”

“I did the laundry. Don’t fuck him again.”

John noted that she waited until she was out of his reach. She knew if he touched her now, asphyxiation was assured.

Once he knew she was an alpha herself, he knew she knew. Despite whatever suppressants she was on, and John knew they had to be damned strong ones for him to have not noticed anything even once in their years together, she knew. Her senses may be muted because of the suppressants, but given the heavy pheromones that had still wafted in the air when she had to have known what had happened between him and Sherlock the moment she walked in the kitchen that evening.

_That was why the crystal shattered in her hand. She accidentally squeezed it in rage._

Yet she used the laundry as her excuse and waited until now to tell him. Still keeping her secret.

Their last few days together had been a series of arguments or deep discussions. All of them over the same problem that was his bloody omega. Yet none of it about John and his Second Mate having had sex.

Like he and Sherlock, she also had said nothing. Until now.

_Oh, you want to bomb drop as you're leaving me? Fine. I can play that game, too._

“I see. My secret was only going to be until I could convince him for us to tell you together as one. You and I have been married six years, in a relationship for eight. When were you going to tell me your secret, _Alpha_?”

He took advantage of her stunned gasp to walk away and leave the airport. He ignored her calls as she rang and texted him. 

_No wife and no Second Mate. Just bloody brilliant._

_Second Mate – hah!_

Neither he nor Mary had referred to the genius as their Second Mate, not even in public any more. He was simply John’s omega if he was referred to at all.

_So, what is he now?_

_My omega. He's still bonded to me, he's still mine._

_Even if I can’t even bear to look at him right now._

Personal discussions and medical issues were things handled beforehand. There has been the rare case where something happened to the omega that made them infertile, but in all known cases the omega had birthed at least one litter securing them.  There were no known records of an incidence where an Alpha had been in a situation of a Second Mate that was unable, or in Sherlock's case, unwilling to bear children from the onset of the bonding. No alpha would choose such an omega a second mate as that would defeat the purpose of having one.

A bonding is considered marriage in their world and among betas. Whether alpha or beta, Mary is his first marriage. If Sherlock, who is still fertile, remains childless - is their bonding now considered polygamy? That is something that is illegal in AO law as well as Crown law.

_So, what did that make us?_

By AO law Sherlock was protected for as long as John lived and kept him bonded. If John died the detective was back to square one of needing an alpha as second mate or forced to breeders. Even taking into account of how the three of them came together, they could not possibly get away with more than a couple more years with no children sired, before some nosy soul was going to question the relationship.

If the bonding between Sherlock and John is considered polygamous would he be asked to choose one and divorce/sever the other? Or will he and Sherlock be forced apart?

_More than we already are?_

John was sure as Alpha he will be okay in the end even, if he had to serve a jail term. The question remained what happens to Sherlock?

_There has to be another way. I can’t just let him go. It’s not his fault he just wants to live his own life like every other alpha and beta._

They were unprecedented ground.

_Maybe it was time to set some precedents._

* * *

It was daylight outside in 221B Baker Street when Sherlock sat in his chair to think.

He placed his pressed palms together under his chin and went into his mind palace. He needed to make room.

As it turned dark in 221B Baker Street, Sherlock still sat in his chair.

His body was still, but his face in turns showed amazement, joy, frustration, happiness, panic and resolution.

It was light out in 221B Baker Street when with a bittersweet smile he rose again.

He took a shower, dressed and just before he put on his coat he picked up the stick by the sink.

_Well now I know, I wish I could tell you first._

* * *

Mycroft had a barely three-minute warning before his curly haired baby brother stalked into his office. How William Sherlock Scott Holmes seemingly ghosts in and out of Whitechapel’s massive security when he does not want to go through normal channels to see him is a mystery for the ages. One that he immediately cast aside to idly ponder on another day as he looked up from the papers in his hand and saw his brother's face. He did a subtle sniff and frowned.

_His scent is off. Is he wearing a new blocker for a case?_

“Name three words you'd never expect me to utter to you, brother mine.” Sherlock plopped into a chair in front of him.

“ _Mycroft, I'm pregnant_.” Mycroft snarked as he lifted the cup to sip his tea.

“Mycroft, I'm pregnant.”

_My God he is serious!_

The cup clattered to saucer, its spilled contents staining the very important papers on his desk unnoticed.

Mycroft barely, just barely, avoided asking the classic Pavlovian response of “How?”

With a very satisfied smirk at his brother's reaction, Sherlock placed a plastic stick on his desk in case there was any question.

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he refused to even acknowledge the plastic stick with its plus sign in confirmation.

_The man child is about to have children of his own._

He observed his brother instead.

_He is still a bit shell-shocked himself._

_He is not unhappy, yet…_

“You haven't told John. Why?”

“It's… complicated. We're not speaking at the moment.”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

“How long has this _moment_ existed?”

“Just a couple of weeks. It's fine…”

“Your alpha needs to know, Sherlock. Whatever domestic you've had…”

The younger Holmes brother face twisted in a way the elder brother had rarely seen.

“Sherlock?”

“Brother Mine, please. Two things I need you to give your absolute word on, now." Sherlock's took a pained breath. Mycroft immediately got up and poured a glass of water for Sherlock and gave it to him. He knew it was serious when his brother took the glass and sipped without protest. The pain eased from his features.

_What is going on with you and your alpha?_

“One: Don't ask me why I ask this of you and two: I need your word, your absolute word you will not inform John in any way, shape or form of his impending fatherhood. Not you, not through Anthea or another proxy, not smoke signals, anything or anyone. You don't tell him or anyone else, before I do. Your absolute word, Myc please!”

Mycroft's breath caught at the diminutive. Sherlock so rarely appealed to him in that way. It was as close to begging him as Sherlock got. His baby brother prided himself on the knowledge he does not beg, yet Mycroft had the suspicion if he pushed the issue Sherlock would be on his knees begging. 

_This is serious. What the bloody hell, Sherlock?_

Once he gave his absolute he cannot break it. Sherlock would never forgive him. He had to know what was going on. It was given begrudgingly. 

“You have my absolute word, Brother Mine. I will keep your counsel. Under the condition that you explain why once the news is out and he knows.”

Sherlock looked at him a moment and then reluctantly nodded his agreement and his thanks.

_Only for you, Sherlock._

“As your Alpha Proxy can I assist in any way?”

“I… I need my brother more than my proxy right now.” Sherlock had whispered so low Mycroft had barely him.

Mycroft could only imagine what that admission had cost his brother.

_Oh, Brother Mine!_

“Always. I will always be here for you.” Mycroft squatted and looked into those imploring eyes, rendered a grey-green in the office light. “Anything.”

“ _Anything_ , uncle-to-be?”

_Oh, thank God, he's not going to ask that of me._

He knew by his brother's shocked expression; his thought had been gleaned.

“Mycroft! How could you, for even a moment, think such of me? They are _John's_!”

Mycroft suppressed the smile that wanted to form at the serious offence taken by his brother at the thought. He knew the offence was not that the omega would have an abortion with or without his alpha's permission. No, Sherlock was upset that Mycroft thought he would destroy something of John's. 

_He is in love with his alpha. I know this, does he?_

“Apologies, I meant no disrespect, little brother. You know I must consider all possibilities.” He stood, “Anything in my power to assist is yours. Providing fratricide is not imminent if you do not remove that disgusting _thing_  from my desk, first."

As he took the pregnancy test stick from the desk and pocketed it, Sherlock’s smirk was the closest he had come to a true smile since he walked into the office.

_That is always a good sign. I will get him through this._

 

Image source: Google

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Image source: Google  
  
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	40. Writing on the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock realizes just how words get in the way when he can't say the ones he wants to his alpha.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

Sherlock barely looked up from where he sat on the sofa as Sally Donovan entered. He had heard as Mrs. Hudson let her into 221B Baker Street. He studied the latest report from Molly in his hands. There were 38 male omegas now dead with double puncture wounds in their right arm.

“Someone is killing male omegas seemingly globally. They have been doing so for nearly three years that I can tell. And I am no closer to figuring out who.”  

“No, that is what’s going on with the case. I asked what was going on with you.” Sally stood near him by the sofa and looked at the pinning on the wall.

“There is nothing going on with me.”

“Riiiight. You have either been more of a bastard than usual or you have been spaced out, your attention elsewhere. I know it’s not drugs, I’ve seen you high – this is a different type of spaced out.” She looked down at the genius “Last week you merely shrugged at Anderson’s stupid comment about Germanic dialects where even one of the Metro cops looked at Phillip like the idiot he was being. You’re not being… you.”

_No. I am being perfectly me._

“And when’s the last time you’ve been home? You smell like you’ve been here for days.”

Sherlock looked up at the woman. Her system was dulled due to the many years of hormones thwarting her proper development, but she did still have some alpha traits, that even dulled, were above betas.

“I am home.” Sherlock said slowly, painfully.

 _No,_ home _is with an alpha who is not speaking to me._

“Fine. When was the last time you’ve been to John’s?”  She rolled her eyes. “These past couple of months any time Greg or I have called looking for you haven’t been there. I thought you had to be in by midnight Cinderellock. Since when does your alpha allow this when you’re  not in heat?”

“Allow?”  Sherlock raised an imperious dark brow. “I am not some child on curfew. How dare you!”

It has been a little over two months since John walked out of Baker Street. It was not that he did not want to speak to the doctor, he literally _could not_. Every time he gave serious thought to speaking to the alpha _something_ stops him. He could not call, text or email the doctor. He had once been physically ill as he gave a Mrs. Hudson a pile of letters to mail knowing one to John was amidst them. After he removed the letter from the pile he felt better.

_Was this how Mummy felt when she tried to go against my father?_

That first week he sat inside Mrs. Hudson’s Jaguar for three days outside of the doctor’s home and office’s trying to get John to speak to him. John would not so much as look at him. Walked right past him as if he did not exist Alpha Hurt and Rage had come off the doctor in waves. And yet Sherlock could not make himself open his mouth to speak.

Sherlock was so rattled that it took nearly a week before it occurred to the genius to go through another party only to learn that will he still could not make himself ask someone do it for him. He could not even agree when Mycroft threatened to talk to John and fervently insisting his brother adhere to his absolute word.

After the third week, as improbable as it was, Sherlock deduced John somehow silenced him. It was not an alpha command because an omega can choose to ignore those as long as he or she was willing to suffer the consequences of such. Sherlock could not communicate with John in any way. Any attempt to do so brought the ill feeling. One he did not need to have now. He finally deduced the what: John silenced him, and something of the how: by some vocal intonation when the alpha left, but for the life of him Sherlock could not deduce the why. After a month the detective stopped trying. If he could not speak to John directly to tell him he was going to be a father then the alpha will find some truly unexpected way.

“Sorry, that was badly worded. But seriously, Sherlock, something is going on in the big brain of yours. And in that heart you claim you don’t have, but I know better, finally.”

Sherlock wanted to tell Sally. Wanted to tell Greg. In fact, he opened his mouth to speak when he started to feel ill again.

_Damned transport! And I’ve barely consumed anything!_

“Sherlock? You actually look ill. I’m calling John.”

“No!” Sherlock panicked. “I swear I’m fine. Just need to eat I guess.”

“You _guess_?” Sally squinted at him knowingly. “Sherlock, when is the last time you’ve had a proper meal?”

The curly haired-detective rolled his eyes mockingly “Define proper?”

“More than a couple of cups of tea and digestives 1.

“In the morning, then.”

Sally chewed the inside of her cheek a moment in the clear attempt to not curse the man as she inwardly groaned. Sherlock knew she had watched Greg and him go around on the carousel of Sherlock’s bad eating habits over the years and knew better. “Uh huh. And _which_ morning was that Sherlock Holmes?”

_Damn, she caught that._

“Yesterday?” Sherlock ventured unsure.

“Sherlock it’s Thursday afternoon.”

“Oh! Tuesday morning then. Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t let me out the flat until she saw me eat a full plate.” He piped up having the answer, then realized what he had admitted when he saw the sergeant’s surprised face.

He was not telling her he has not had a proper meal since then because half of the time when he ate anything more than tea or digestives it kept coming back up. Tea and digestives were about all his system can take for the moment and he was fine.

“For God’s sake, why are you here Donovan? Surely not to play therapist to the psychopath?”

Sally narrowed her dark eyes at him clearly hurt.

_Damn!_

“I... I am sorry Sally. That was completely uncalled for. It’s been a very long time since you’ve called me that. It’s not who we are anymore.” Sherlock tossed the reports in his hand to the table annoyed with himself.

_Get it together, Holmes!_

Sally went from hurt to surprised “Who are you? And what have you done with the Consulting Dick Sherlock Holmes I know?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but half-smiled.

_I can easily apologize to Sally, but I can't make myself say a word to John? Why did you do this?_

“Look, I know I was a major bitch to you the first few years we worked together. You were such a dick…”

“Were? Am I losing my touch?”

“…Especially when you cut people off. Shut it.” She pointed a finger at him as she continued. “But do you have any idea how it looked from my end? I’m a black, female officer trying to make it in a still mostly white male dominated field. I was doing well and then you showed up making all of NSY look stupid, but especially Major Crimes. Greg was promoted to DI and shined. Dimmock’s career got a nice little polish as well. Only because Anderson is a different unit, his career, though moving slowly is still in fact moving. Someone had to be the scapegoat left behind and it was me. So yeah, I could not stand your scrawny arse because I knew if you were not around I would have moved up faster.”

Sherlock looked up at the sergeant surprised. When in the moment of his deductions he is only thinking about the case and yes, proving how right he is. He did not think a second beyond that, his mind already off to the next case, next mystery, next puzzle. He gave little thought to the ripples his actions caused others.  While Anderson was an idiot, one whom he still cannot understand what Sally ever saw in the man, she herself was a enough competent cop. Sherlock understood, as Greg's partner, Donovan had even more to do with how well Lestrade shone than he. She did finally move up to sergeant within a year of when he stopped picking on her. He had stopped tearing her apart when he realized one day she had stopped insulting him.

“Considering how we began, what changed your mind about me?”

“The Ellison case with the abducted kids three years back. How hard you went to bat to get that child sex trafficking ring found in the process taken down and how you found each child’s relative and returned them to their families. I checked on Marcy Ellison a year later. I happened to be right behind the messengers when the family learned the news of her university funding. When I said I was NSY they thought I was there to ensure the gifts had arrived. Like it or not I have learned a thing or two from being around you. I know about the anonymous donations, Sherlock. University funding does not also include wardrobe allowance and a MINI Cooper.” She smiled at him gently.

There were fourteen children rescued from that trafficking ring. A guaranteed university education was given to those who passed their A-Levels. Marcy Ellison, the first to reach the goal found out her tuition was paid in full after she had chosen Eton and turned in her paperwork. Of the fourteen, six have now benefitted from the generosity of an anonymous donor. Only one, Marcy Ellison, had figured out the identity of her benefactor. For the past three years at the start of a semester he received an anonymous bouquet of flowers as a thank you knowing the detective would deduce it was from the now young woman. Sherlock had no idea Sally knew until then.

“That’s when I knew you had a heart. The case was the case, but the tuition...? The gifts to Ellison? That was you. It took a while to reconcile that with the arrogant cock that outed my affair with Phillip in the middle of a case, was the same person capable of such largesse.” Sally sat next to him on the sofa, “I was forced to look at you differently once I knew. Forced to actually _look_. You are every bit the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. Yet you are also one of the most kind, decent, gracious and knowledgeable people I have ever met. That awful day we discovered the illegal breeders and you called me your friend without sarcasm or pity when you realized how I was intersexed was more of an honor to me than the day I finally made sergeant.”

“Who are you? And what have you done with the Sergeant Salome Renee Donovan I know?” Sherlock leaned away from her as though the cop were contagious.

“Shut up, Freak.” Sally laughed. Sherlock understood the erstwhile insult was now more of an affectionate pet name.  “Greg was telling me you hit a stalemate with the omega case. I thought maybe you’d like a fresh pair of eyes. But we are not looking at a single thing until you get more in your system than tea and digestives.”

“Must we?”

“Yes!”

Some food and hours later Sally stood and twisted her head back and forth as she stretched her neck with a yawn.

“John is right.”

“Excuse me?” Sherlock blinked.

_John? My John?_

_Is he still my John? My alpha?_

“He came through the other day wanting to know if we had heard of _rico_.” She stretched up on her toes “Something he remembered Mary telling him had become a thing where she was. He wondered if it hit our shores.”

“Right. Mary had mentioned it to me once.” Sherlock kept his face neutral, so Sally would not see his surprise.

_John is still working the case?_

“We told him about the thing in Madrid a few months ago. Three alpha males and four females died of an OD within a forty-eight-hour period. The word _rico_ had been bounced around a few times, but nothing came of it. It’s still unsolved. He said the whole thing has an old Latin feel to it which is what made him remember rico.”

Sherlock looked at the wall again and moved some pinned items around.

_El Enlace, El Beso, El Río the club in New York City, La Cadena the club in Miami. Nearly half of the omegas or rather their alphas were members such clubs. Someone has been going shopping for omega males._

“John is correct. I had the stateside stuff so separate in my head from the UK side, I nearly missed the connections. Someone mentioned something mágico or un cuento. Something magical like an old fairy tale or allegory involving alphas. Actually…” He frowned at the wall.

“What?” Sally looked at the wall to see what has captured the genius’ attention.

Sherlock moved some other items on the wall and pinned them together. He went to his desk wrote a quick note and added it to the pins.

[“Vena vires, virtus, vir?”]

[“Don’t really remember the story of it anymore…”]

[“…old wives’ tales? Or folklore…”]

[“… mágico or un cuento”]

[“Old fairy tale or allegory involving alphas”]

_[“Cahriah’s Kiss”]_

“ _Cahriah’s Kiss?_ Wow that is something I’ve not heard since a child.”  Sally stared at the note.

“You have heard of the story?” Sherlock asked surprised.

“You haven’t?” Sally answered surprised.

“No. Or if I had, I’ve since deleted it.” 

Sally shook her head with a small sigh. She and Lestrade had long ago given up on what most people take for granted, but he deletes as insignificant.

“I don’t remember the details. It was some kind of morality story about an alpha that amassed too much power. It was supposed to be so verboten to know the details of how his powers were amassed. Just that it was a kiss that took him down.”

“Hmm, not quite dark enough for a Grimm tale.” Sherlock said.

“True, but not quite Disney either.” Donovan shrugged in turn. “Look it’s starting to get late, I still have to swing by the Yard. And don't think I didn't note you did not tell me what's going on with you. Your alpha came by the squad room without you. He's very good, but he's not the _World’s Only Consulting Detective_ , is he? You and John are not speaking, but you’re bonded. It’s not fair, but you are going to need your alpha, Sherlock. In the interim, until you two work it out, just remember you do have Greg and Molly to talk to. See you around.”

Sherlock inwardly sighed, as she gathered her things and departed. He realized though their friendship is new, she has known him for some time. In fact, knew him a little better than he thought. She knew him enough to know that while their burgeoning friendship is still too new that he would not confide in her, she knew exactly who he might turn to.

Except for the one person he did call after he received a text a few minutes later.

&90 – unknown number

He wished Mycroft was back from his diplomatic mission overseas, to look through the information, but it was one of his brother’s incommunicado trips. Even he respected that. As always, when his brother was out of touch, Anthea sent Sherlock daily pings. No words, just a symbol and always from an unknown number. Once Sherlock had received an exclamation point. He literally dropped everything in his hands, which at that moment also included a lit acetylene torch. Luckily, Mrs. Hudson had been in his presence and kept the torch from nearly setting the flat on fire. He was at Heathrow and wheels up in less than an hour. He was airborne before he even thought to call Victor. Mycroft had been shot in the crossfire of a coup in a country whose borders he should not have crossed. The barely conscious Icemen had to be concealed and smuggled into the borders of a neighboring safe country before he could be brought to a hospital for proper treatment. Sherlock hoped to never see that symbol again.

Mycroft had been in and out of the UK for the past few weeks on various back end diplomatic deployments. For the past few days the daily pings have been a simple dot. Everything is as it should be - period.

An ampersand and a number meant he had that many minutes from the moment of the ping if he wanted to call or text his brother.

“Oh, that was fast. Hello Brother Mine.” Mycroft answered immediately. “And, how are we?”

“Drained, Brother Mine. Gravidity disagrees with me morning, midday and evening…”

Sherlock heard his brother’s light sniff of amusement.

“It balances out soon enough. Anything new about the omega investigation...?”

Sherlock would never admit, at least not anytime soon, but he felt better having Mycroft go over the information with his critical eyes. If there was a fault, the elder Holmes brother would find it. He knew Mycroft did not understand why he asked for a complete vow of silence, but knew the request would be honored. It was all he could do until he figured his way around to John.

_John who had come by the Yard._

That meant John was still working the case.

_What did that mean?_

Through his Homeless Network Sherlock knew Mary had left for Bolivia. This should have been the perfect peaceful time to work together without the distraction of the lying spouse between them.

_Not just the spouse, the female alpha spouse._

_He made it so I cannot speak to him. So why won’t he speak to me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Digestives are a type of cookie made with extra bicarbonate soda, once believed to aid in digestion, thus its name. Eventually, it was decided the other ingredients in the cookie cancelled out any potential health benefits, but the name stuck. ^ return to paragraph ^


	41. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha John Watson tries to figure out what is going on in his life....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smarty pants among you noticed I posted late Monday night and not on the usual Tuesday, my time. You just _knew_ that meant another post was coming this week, congratulations (!) you are correct and here it is. 
> 
> For those of you wondering why I am posting so late today on Tuesday - that is because in part of the world it is already well into Wednesday which makes it **HALLOWEEN**! My little trick is your treat of an extra post for this week! Enjoy!

John stared at his laptop. Or rather he had awakened with it staring at him.

 _Again_.

He gave up and put it to sleep, placed it on the nightstand and turned over to do the same for himself. For the life of him he could not fathom why he was still doing it. Why he was still looked into the male omega murders on his own. It’s not as if the brilliant omega needed his help.

_Because it’s not for my life, but for his._

 As the alpha who bonded him, he was still responsible for the omega’s life.

At least that is what John told himself.

John was still hurt and furious with Sherlock for he’s rather kill John’s children than bear them. Every time he tried to pick up the phone, or thought to go see him, the rage would overtake him again. He knew he could not go any near the omega while in such a mood. Sherlock might say something incredibly Sherlockian at the wrong moment and John was afraid he would lose his temper.

Bad enough he was barely keeping it in check at work. That first month he passed a colleague’s office when he thought he smelled a trace of the omega’s scent. He pulled the door so hard the knob came off in his hand. He could do nothing but apologize to the doctor who promptly and effectively cursed him out. He had felt so incredibly stupid after the fact. After all, why would Sherlock be in Taveras' office?

He still could not even bare to think about Mary. She had called him pretty much the moment she landed. Called him every day for nearly two weeks straight before he finally answered.

> “You’re an Alpha?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> “You knew you were one when we met?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> “Unwilling to risk that I might recognize the markers on the test results that would identify you as being born an alpha, instead of telling me the truth, you somehow got your name on someone beta’s tests and handed them to me?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> “You are not infertile because of some freak congenital quirk, you are infertile because you’re an alpha. I have knotted you and instead of admitting you were fine, you continued to lie. “
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> “And haven’t I always said to you one of the things I loved about you was your honesty?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> As they spoke John’s voice became steadily colder and Mary’s repeated affirmations became more broken. He could hear as she tried and failed to control her crying.
> 
> “John let me…”
> 
> “Don’t you _dare_!  Not now. Explanations should have happened years ago. From the very beginning, for no bloody reason you fucking lied. I don’t know why you started, but it’s done. And now I’m done.  Your true love has always been with _Médecins Sans Frontières._ You know how it’s like to live with your love. Continue to do so.”
> 
> “John…please…” Mary’s voice was broken.
> 
> John did not care.
> 
> “Eight years Mary. Eight! Fucking! Years!” John screamed into the phone and then disconnected the call when he threw the mobile across the room. He had not answered a phone call or email since from Mary since, both of which had petered out to the quiet, if not necessarily the peace, that have been these past two months.

Though he was no longer in love with her, a part of him still loved the Mary he thought he knew. You don’t spend seven years loving someone and it turned off just like that. Still, he knew he could not forgive so many years of such a lie. An unnecessary one at that as far as he was concerned.

_What else has she lied about? Right, she lied about Sherlock._

_Sherlock…_

John turned over in his bed frustrated.

|“I. Will. Kill. Them….”|

The alpha could not get over those cold words dropped from those beautiful lips.

> “What else was said?” Harry had asked when John told her last week.
> 
> “What do you mean?”
> 
> “John, you were butt dialed in the middle of an ongoing conversation. You admit parts of it had faded out. What important parts did you miss?” She gently shook the stroller on the sleeping toddler as they sat in a park while the two older siblings played. “Remember that major row Clara and I had a few years back? It was all because of an accidental dial. We didn’t speak for months. We almost did not get married because of it. I don’t know what to tell you about Mary. You know never really liked her and especially how she constantly upped and left you. I only put up with her because of you, but I think you really need to talk to your omega John.”
> 
> “Sis, I can barely stand to look at him.” John groaned.
> 
> “Yet you’re here asking if I remember Walter telling us any ancient Alpha -Omega fairytales because you’re still working a case for Sherlock. And I cannot believe I’m advocating for that maniac omega over your wife, but it’s been nearly three months John. You’ve reached the level of cruel. Sherlock is a strong omega, yes, but he is still _a bonded omega_ John. He needs you. I’m ready to box your ears, Walter would flat out beat you senseless were he alive to hear you’ve not spoken to your omega, even one like his nibs, for over two whole months. That he has not spoken to you is irrelevant, he’s as stubborn as you. Whether it’s you and Mary, you and Sherlock or by some miracle, the three of you or you as lone wolf – alpha, need you to get your pack in order.”

John turned over a couple more times before he gave up.

_Again._

He rose and paced an empty house that felt even emptier than before when he went to bed. When his alarm went off he stretched out an arm to shut it off, but couldn’t find it. He opened his eyes hardly surprised to see he rose from Sherlock’s bed and not his own.

 _Again_.

John knew Sherlock came by, took what he needed from his room and left. He had done so at least twice that John was able to scent. Both times Sherlock came by when John had an operation scheduled and there was no chance of the alpha being at the house.

It worked perfectly until two days ago.

John had a morning surgery scheduled. His patient was killed in a drunk driving accident on his way to the hospital. Not in the mood to sit around after the getting some paper work done, John came home early. He was almost home when he realized he might see Sherlock. When he did not see any signs the curly-haired detective had been there, as he entered in the empty house he sighed happy to not have missed him. John sat in the living room and did something he had not done in a long time – play the piano. Unlike Harriet, who was tone deaf like their mother, his grandmother insisted the then four-year-old John learn when he had gravitated toward her upright piano and she watched him as he pieced out “Mary Had a Little Lamb” on his own. Harriet and his mother surprised him with a baby grand when he returned home from Afghanistan to stay. “You’ve done your share of war, now work on peace.” Harry had told him at the time.

He had walked in, toed off his shoes and sat down at the bench. Habit made him pick up the pencil and write the date on the pad he always kept there. The original idea being to not let more than a month pass between plays. He had become busy doing research for his current projects, working his actual job and dealing with his very unique omega.

He realized nearly three months had passed since he last played.

_How the hell has that happened?_

He remembered he had played with Sherlock. Time had truly gotten away from him. 

He let his fingers idle along the keys not really thinking about until a tune evolved. With a bittersweet smile he realized it was the only thing he had ever composed and written down. He pulled the music sheets out of the bench seat and played the music in earnest. He had been playing hard for over an hour when he realized he was hearing the counterpart to his tune. He listened, then as he played smiled genuinely at the violin giving his instrumental piece a haunting yet elegant depth.

_Sherlock!_

His scent was different. The core scent the same yet something that was not there before.

_He must be using a new scent blocker for a case._

Sherlock had never played John’s piece before. They played together a few minutes more before he finally faced his omega.

“Hi.” John said softly, nervous. A small piece of the rage slipped through, but he kept it in check.

The omega looked at him, a pained expression on his face, but did not speak.

_Did he not hear me?_

John tried again.

“That was beautiful, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked like he wanted to say something, but did not, hurt omega pheromones wafted from him.

Sherlock oscillated between looking pained and looking furious. He opened his mouth, but did not speak and closed it again.

_He played with me, but he won’t speak to me?_

“Sherlock?”

John waited, but Sherlock said nothing.

The familiar sea green eyes filled with angry tears that refused to fall and hurt omega pheromones were replaced by angry ones as he put away the violin, then turned and left the room.

“Damn you! Sherlock! Wait!”

John heard a metallic jingle just before the door slammed hard behind Sherlock. Framed photos fell to the floor.

John ran to the door, forgetting he was shoe less until a shard of glass embedded itself. “Fuck!”

He hopped to the door in time to see Sherlock peel from the curb. John knew he was fast, but not fast enough to chase down Mrs. Hudson’s red Aston Martin speeding away. Definitely not while shoeless, with glass in his foot.

When John turned back around he saw the house keys on the floor. He knew Sherlock was not coming back again.

_What did you expect John? It’s Sherlock. You told him not to speak to you and he has no idea why. Now he won’t speak to you._

John hobbled to the bathroom to deal with his foot and then came to where Sherlock had stood. John breathed in what was left of his omega’s scent. Something niggled in his mind, but he could not place it.

_Christ, I miss him. I’m punishing myself as much as I am him._

He called Sherlock, but it went to voicemail. John hung up without leaving a message.

_Why won’t he talk to me‽_

_Mary will be back soon. Harry is right - I need to get my act and my pack, in order._  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to do with the story - just me at work today... Happy Halloween!
> 
>  


	42. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Alpha John Watson learns Omega Sherlock Holmes is pregnant it's...a bit not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Potential Miscarriage.
> 
> I am horrible at warnings. Forgive me for putting this in late.

“I’m thinking I may need to fly out to South America.” Sherlock sat next to Lestrade and Sally in King’s Hospital waiting area without preamble.

He knew Lestrade had given up trying to fathom how Sherlock managed to get in and out of New Scotland Yard unstopped by any means of security. How the omega also managed to track him at any crime scene or hospital whenever he wanted something was another matter. One that Sherlock knew annoyed the detective inspector to no ends.

Greg barely blinked at his sudden appearance, it was the unusual statement that had caught his attention.

“The male omega murders? South America? What do you have?” Donovan who sat on the other side of Greg looked up and squinted at him. “How was breakfast?”

“Upchuckingly delicious. Now that we know exactly what to look for, there are forty-three confirmed murders in the past four years. Other than the twin puncture wounds specifically in the right arm, and a base set of chemicals before the deviations, the one thing every single murder has in common is some sort of Latin American connection. Either through a club like El Enlace, on vacation in or is a native thereof. The older deaths are all from the same vicinity.” Sherlock already had his laptop out, ready to show them.

“The murders all come and go in waves. The murderer hunts in a locale, takes out a few male omegas and then moves on. There are slight deviations in the chemical make-up for each wave, but the base make-up of the drug and the delivery method is the same. There have been no more than six murders in any given major city, most have been around three or four depending on population. Someone is a chemist and is testing something designed for male omegas.”

Greg looked at the data in Sherlock’s laptop “What do you hope to find there?”

“At this point, the chemical trail. Molly has broken down 95% of the components more than half of which can be found in certain areas of South America. The rest is something synthesized.” Sherlock displayed more information. “I have been up and down the European connections with this. I have enough people in The States that I'm reasonably sure it's not there.”

His mobile pinged.  

= – MH.

_Everything’s equal again. He’s back._

Mycroft had texted from his own mobile, he was back in London.

_Good._

Barely a moment later Greg’s mobile pinged with a text. The detective inspector looked at text, smiled and looked as though a great weight had been lifted from him. Sally, seeing Greg’s text, looked at Sherlock and winked as she sipped her coffee.

_Oho, so she knows as well!_

“So…? How long has this been going on?” Sherlock purred.

Greg clearly had forgotten Sherlock was by his side and looked up panicked for a split second before he schooled his face to a more neutral expression. “He just lets me know so I know where to call if anything happens…”

“Really Lestrade? You’re going with that? With me of all people? You know I know .” Sherlock smirked.

Lestrade’s face fell slightly.

_Oh, I’m right!_

“Stop, Sherlock. Just stop.” Greg pleaded as he glanced at Sally, “It's not what you think.” 

 _He does not want her to know, not realizing she already does_.

"And pray tell, what do Sally and I think because she knows as well?” Sherlock teased, then frowned.

_And what the bloody hell is that stench?_

“What on earth are you consuming, Lestrade?” Sherlock scrunched his face in distaste.

Greg raised both brows. “Only the same lousy hospital coffee you've known me to consume for years. Why?”

“Are the beans spoiled? Is it brewed with sewage instead of water? It smells like the putrid remains of the case by the Thames a few weeks back. The black bile…"

“Oh, for Christ's sake, Sherlock!” Sally made her own face of disgust at the reminder. “Why would you bring that up while I’m drinking this?”

“Because I need you to stop drinking that vileness before it brings up the breakfast I already brought up.” Sherlock snatched the offending drinks away from Greg and Sally, walked to the nearest bin and tossed them.

“Oi!” The detective inspector looked at the younger man a moment, “Sherlock? Are you alright...?”

“I have been less than my usual stellar self, but I'm fine." The curly hair genius waved a dismissive hand toward Greg.

“Oh Christ, you're about to go into heat, aren’t you?” Greg groaned.

_No, you did not just say that! I am not in heat. I…._

“Yeah, you are always an even bigger dick the day befo… Sherlock...?” Sally looked at Sherlock and barely stopped the gasp that nearly fell from her lips.

_No! No! Damn! Shut up!_

Sally looked from Sherlock to Greg and back as everything came together then closed her lips tight.

_Thank you!_

"Sherlock?” Greg frowned concerned.

“I… I just realized I need to fact check something with my brother.” Sherlock turned away quickly.

_She knows, I need to speak to…_

A sharp pain seared through Sherlock’s head at the thought. It was the one he got every time he gave serious thought to speak to his alpha. Sherlock barely contained the gasp of pain from it.

“What is on with you, mate?” Greg stood and walked over to him.

_No, I can’t do this. Not now. I need…_

“Detective Inspector Lestrade?” a nurse called out.

 _Oh, thank goodness_! _Yes, distract him!_

“Over here, nurse. Is Ms. Morgan okay to talk?” Greg turned to the nurse, but still had an eye on Sherlock.

“Not too long, she is still quite weak, but she insisted on speaking with Sergeant Donovan, not you." She motioned in the direction of the patient.

“That is why I’m here. Just a moment, nurse. You need him?” She reached out and touched Sherlock’s shoulder.

_Damn. I've worried her, but not as much as I am going to worry them both soon enough._

“Yes. No. I'm fine. Headache, yes headache.” He waved them off instead. “Go. I’ll let you know about South America, have to…go.”

“Okay.” Sally followed the nurse, but Greg did not move.

“I don’t trust you to… oh fuck!” Greg stopped short as he glanced over Sherlock’s shoulder.

Sherlock, not wanting to give Greg a chance to say more immediately turned on his heel and saw Franklyn Dennison in his path.

_“Oh fuck” indeed. I don’t need this now._

“Hello Holmes.” The doctor stood in the corridor.

“Goodbye Dennison. This is not the club.”  Sherlock continued his forward motion until he spied another familiar figure.

“Mary?” Sherlock blinked genuinely surprised. He had not known she returned.

“Have you seen John?” She turned at his voice.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock stopped and quickly deduced the frazzled woman who pulled a rolling duffle bag. “You just arrived from Heathrow. You’re exhausted. John did not pick you up?”

_Oh, she came back early again and came directly here. He does not know._

In his surprise at seeing Mary, Sherlock had mentally dismissed Dennison.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, omega!” Franklyn moved directly in front of Sherlock.

_No, I can’t have a fight. Not now. Not now!_

Sherlock got of the way of the alpha’s shove just in time.

Franklyn blinked surprised at Sherlock’s speed.

Sherlock didn't think about it. He simply pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial.

“{ALPHA!}”

Sherlock blinked waiting for the pain, surprised when nothing happened.

“Get away from him, Franklyn. John _will_ kill you over him.” Mary warned stepping back. She was a very small alpha female. She knew better than to get in the way of two larger ones. Especially after Killa Kuppa.

_No. No he will not. My alpha does not care anymore. That can be the only reason my calling him did not hurt._

The sadness of it washed over him, he did not see as Franklyn swung again. This time the alpha connected with a solid punch to Sherlock’s midsection. Sherlock buckled to one knee.

“Dennison, stop!” Greg yelled.

Sherlock grunted as he dropped the mobile from the shock of the hit. Dennison stepped on the mobile crushing it.

“{SHERLOCK‽}”

Sherlock looked for John, but did not see the alpha. He knew he heard John’s voice.

“{GOD DAMN YOU! _SHERLOCK, TALK TO ME_!}”

Sherlock felt a weight lifted from him. Somehow, he knew he could talk to John now and the liberation was immense. He could not find words as the relief poured out of him.

“Alpha!”

“What are you doing?” Dennison grabbed him hard by the shoulder. Sherlock yelped from the pain. Instinct kicked in.

_Protect! Protect! Protect!_

“Alpha! Please don’t!” Sherlock bowed his head.

“Yes! Know your place, omega!”  Dennison snarled standing above Sherlock.

“STOP!” Sally screamed as she ran back into the corridor having heard Sherlock and Greg yell, “He’s pregnant!”

_Now they all know._

“WHAT‽” Dennison looked to Sherlock stunned as the omega scrambled to his feet again.

“WHAT‽” Mary had yelled simultaneously with Dennison. She dropped her rolling duffle to the floor.

For the past year the confrontations between Dennison, John and Sherlock had floated around the Elite and Elite Pack circles. It was not enough to lose his license – it was just an omega after all, but Dennison received a strike against his official record when word of his treatment of Jerry Lorimar, or rather the lack thereof, had reached the medical board. Word of when the omega had knocked him out, then John had knocked him down plus their encounter at El Enlace had also made the gossip circuits. John and Sherlock were not among Dennison’s favorite people. Gossip had reached Sherlock that someone had taunted Dennison with “keep it up and I’ll sic Watson’s omega on you.” Worse, Dennison had yet to sire with the second mate he and Simone had chosen weeks after their initial encounter at the hospital. Rumor had it the issue certainly was not with the Second Mate who they had thoroughly checked out before they accepted him. Now with the revelation of Sherlock’s pregnancy it seemed Alpha John Watson and Omega Sherlock Holmes had bested him at every given turn.

And now Dennison has just struck a pregnant omega. Even if the omega was Sherlock Holmes. Dennison knew there was no redemption coming back from that.

That was the last straw.

“{ALPHA!}”

On his feet Sherlock turned to run, but Dennison moved faster. Dennison grabbed Sherlock’s arm in a grip the omega knew he had no chance of breaking. With a ferocious growl Sherlock knew Dennison was about to strike again.

Greg pulled out the tranquilizer gun and aimed it at Franklyn. “Stand back Dennison. You can’t dodge all of them, I will tranq you!” Dennison turned to Lestrade fully prepared to take the chance when Sally pulled her out her tranquilizer gun as well. He let Sherlock go.

Everyone was focused on the bigger threat of Dennison. None had not considered an attack from another direction when Mary charged at Sherlock and got a knee in before he could think to move.

“You bloody bastard! You got him to fuck you again after I was gone‽”

Sherlock dropped to the floor as he shoved Mary away from him. He curled into a ball in pain as Mary kicked him in a blind rage.

_Protect! Protect! Protect!_

Sally Donovan ran across the floor and slammed into Mary with an upper cut that knocked the woman over the seats.

“Oh, please get up fighting so I can knock your arse down again.” Sally was already top of Mary, cuffs in hand.

“You just knowingly kneed a pregnant omega! In front of two cops! Wait until the Bronze (1) hears about it. And they _will_ hear about it. Wait until John or even better, wait until  _Mycroft_ hears about it.” Sally Donovan grinned evilly in Mary’s face as she cuffed her and began the police caution ( 2).

Sherlock had not heard Sally’s threat nor saw as Mary blanched at the mention of her husband or his brother’s name.

Curled in fetal position Sherlock felt it.

The loss.

The severance.

He knew what it was.

“No!” He screamed in harmonics.

He did not see as every alpha, beta and omega within earshot dropped to the floor.

Sherlock heard a roar in a tone he had never heard before.

Sherlock felt the monster of core unbridled alpha rage approach the corridor like a fire ball.

He felt the terror that had gripped him the night he was bonded.

Omega knew that monster, that terror was Alpha.

_Alpha is here!_

It was all he needed to know.

Sherlock gave in to the pain driving him to unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bronze = HMP Bronzefield is a Category A adult and young offender female prison located on the outskirts of Ashford in Surrey, England. It is the largest private female prison in Europe.  
> Police Caution = UK’s version of the US’ Miranda Rights “You have the right to be silent….”  
> ^ return to paragraph ^
> 
> My Muse is evil, I know.


	43. Death and Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha John Watson is faced with the fallout of his actions when his Omega Sherlock Holmes is seriously hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The disadvantage of leaving cliffhangers as writers is that we know what is going to happen in the next chapter, and the overall arc, so the angst does not always hit as hard. When I wrote the last chapter I knew I was going to get reactions, - my own beta threatened me with bodily harm and she can make good on that threat- but having had over a month pass between the time the chapter was written and when it posted I have to admit you lovely commenters have floored me with your outpourings of hurt and desire for vengeance.  
> ~ Thank you.

John and Dr. Clancy Forrest walked out of Forrest's office with a patient as they concluded a consultation.  

“Yes, you are a beta, but you are in your twenties. Your chances for conception with an equally young omega wife are fine.” Forrest comforted the worried man. 

“Dr. Forrest is correct, you’ll be fine, Mr. Powell. Go ahead and propose to the soon-to-be lucky woman.” John confirmed. “Just put in a little extra effort around your wife’s heats and….”

John reached in his pocket for his mobile as it vibrated.

“{ALPHA!}”

John gasped and stopped. He hadn’t answered yet, the mobile still vibrated in his hand. Yet he knew.

_Sherlock‽ What? How?_

“Dr. Watson?” Mr. Powell looked to John at his gasp.

“{SHERLOCK‽}”

“John?” Dr. Forrest turned to his colleague.

“He can get through!” John turned to the two of them stunned as he stopped. Powell looked to Forrest uncomprehending.

John waited, but heard nothing else.

_He can mindspeak, but he won’t talk to me?_

_I have had enough of this silent treatment._

“{GOD DAMN YOU! _SHERLOCK TALK TO ME!_ }”

The immense relief that flowed to John from his omega’s bond nearly brought the alpha to his knees.

_Why is he so relieved? What is going on?_

“{ALPHA!}”

“What is going on…?” Powell asked.

“His omega is emoting through their bond. Something is happening.” Dr. Forrest explained.

“They can do that?” Powell exclaimed.

“It’s not common, but some alpha/omegas pairs can. Regrettably, you won't be able to as a beta.” Forrest gave the man an apologetic look.

John could not be so bothered to explain. Not that he would have explained if he could have been so bothered. In fact, he no longer noticed either of them as he finally scented his omega and knew Sherlock’s location. John headed towards his omega as Sherlock’s relief was immediately contrasted with the hurt that flowed to the alpha a moment later.

In a near blinding moment of clarity John realized four fundamental truths at the exact same time:

  * Sherlock was relieved he could speak again. John had accidentally silenced him and the doctor inwardly moaned as he realized exactly when.
  * The trace of scent in Taveras’s office was Sherlock’s. It was the changed scent he had smelled yesterday, the thing that niggled in his mind.  He fully understood then why Taveras cursed him out vehemently that day for just walking into his office.
  * The OmObGyn was protecting his patient.
  * And his patient was Sherlock Holmes.



_Pups! Mine!_

And as proof John felt a fleeting sense of embryos as he felt Sherlock go into _Protect_ mode and Dennison’s face flashed in John’s mind.

John took off running at alpha speed as he let loose a sound that made both Forrest and Powell tremble.

“{ALPHA!}”

John felt it less than a moment before he heard his omega scream in pain.

“{Alpha!}”

John knew it was his omega.

His pregnant omega.

It was all he needed to know.

Instinct took over as he gave in to the dark monster that drove his eyes full feral black.

* * *

 

Mycroft had barely been back in London an hour. He texted the few who needed to know and had started on a report when Anthea entered into his office without notice. Seeing her face he was on his feet immediately and circled around the desk. She held the door open and gave him the bullet points.

“Sherlock. Pups. Hurt. Kings. John. Feral. Car. Now.”

_Shite!_

The initial call had come from his agents that covered Sherlock. Whatever happened, had happened fast for Anthea could get no additional information from them. Mycroft had called Lestrade who simply said, “Come now.” in a strained voice and rang out on him.

He and Anthea were climbing out of the sedan before it had made a full stop.

“Core!” Anthea yelled not able to keep up as he raced to the entrance.

He skidded to a stop and looked at his hands.

His knuckles were more pronounced, the tips of his fingers more angular, his nails had started to thicken and curve. It had been a long time since he had seen his own claws fully out. In his upset over his baby brother, the Icemen had not realized he had begun to drop to core. He nodded to Anthea as she caught up to him and gave him his umbrella. Mycroft took a deep breath as he fisted his hands and willed himself back to control. Holding the umbrella was, among other things, a physical reminder to keep his claws sheathed when under stress.

_Wouldn’t do to deal with betas with my claws out._

It was Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade who met them at the hospital entrance.

“Lestrade?”

_There is blood on his suit. A lot. None of it his. And my god what is…? No…!_

Gregory had run a hand through his hair. One of the silver spikes stood on end with a slight red streak. His eyes flicked to Mycroft’s hands and shuddered knowingly.

_He doesn’t realize or has forgotten the blood on his hands. He looks shaken. How bad is it?_

 “Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me Sherlock was pregnant? He was at crime scenes! He could have gotten hurt!” Gregory snapped at the Iceman furious.

_Oh, Lestrade is DONE!_

“Because he had not told the father!” Mycroft answered in kind as Anthea wordlessly moved behind her boss and to his left.  Gregory moved to Mycroft's right side as the three entered the hospital. 

Mycroft arched a brow at his PA who texted on her mobile as she automatically continued to rearrange his schedule for the next few days.

_Our secret is out, then._

“And that answers that next question.” Gregory sighed. He was visibly shaken.

Mycroft wanted to pull him into an embrace, clearly Gregory wanted it as well. He knew from Greg’s rueful smile the detective inspector understood.

“Where is my brother?” Mycroft asked instead.

“Sherlock is still in the OR. It’s… It’s bad, Mycroft. They are pretty sure he’s lost at least one. The way he was hemorrhaging…” Greg voice choked off at the end. Mycroft understood just how bad when Gregory addressed him by his first name in public.

Anthea’s light gasp was the only audible reaction as the two betas and the alpha took a moment to process their respective emotions.

_Oh, Brother Mine!_

“And where is his alpha?”

Mycroft’s voice was frigid and tight. He bit back the urge to rip into Gregory and Anthea as the two glanced at him then at each other with concern. He loosened his increased grip on the umbrella handle.

_Both want to reach out to me. Both know better than to do so._

“Currently out cold, alphastrained outside of what will be Sherlock’s room until he can be moved to his usual suite.” Gregory answered.

“Alphastrained?” Anthea could not help herself.

Mycroft understood then exactly why Lestrade met them alone at the entrance.

_Who did John kill?_

There are the common restraints used on betas.

There are stronger restraints used on calm alphas.

Then there are the alphastrained.

 _Alpha restrained and chained_.  John’s head was sandwiched between metal plates that kept him from turning his head but so much. His arms and legs encased in solid metal bands anchored at several points to a specialized gurney that was secured to a wall. It is designed to render a feral alpha immobile until he or she can be deemed calm enough to downgrade the restraints or be released.

“Sally is with him, tranq at the ready if needed, until we get up there. No one wanted to be near him after what he did.” Greg looked at his hands and groaned as though he just remembered the mess on him.

“And _what exactly_ has he done, Lestrade?” Mycroft arched a brow.

“He left nothing for you Alpha Proxy.” Gregory said plainly.

Mycroft blinked once. Anthea blinked rapidly.

“What do you mean _nothing,_ Gregory?” a low rumble edged his words, he cared not.

The detective inspector almost took a step back from him. Almost. “I… I can’t explain. Come, y-you need to see.”

_He almost moved, he’s learning not to fear me in my anger. Good._

Gregory led Mycroft and Anthea to a corridor. Forensics had yet to arrive, the area was cordoned off and was secured by Metro police, but nothing could hide the blood splattered across the area and the body, such as it was, still in it.

_That explains the blood on Gregory. He was in close proximity. He witnessed it._

Anthea looked around astonished, yet impressed, for once the mobile in her hand forgotten. “Watson did THAT?”

Mycroft understood her reaction.

_This is carnage. There is no other word for it._

“What in the bloody hell happened, Lestrade?”

“Omega Sherlock Holmes fell to the floor in dual, but separate attacks from Alphas Mary Elizabeth Watson and Franklyn Alonso Dennison.” Gregory paused, waited for a reaction that was not forth coming, realized Mycroft and Anthea already knew about Mary then continued, “Sergeant Donovan engaged with Female Alpha Watson. It was over quickly enough. Mrs. Watson is currently under arrest for attempted murder. We don’t know how Alpha John Hamish Watson knew to come. I presume he was already headed in this direction when he heard the commotion. He got here fast. I’m pretty sure the harmonic scream of his pregnant omega is what made him go feral. As the sole beta in that group I could not steady myself against the depth of your brother’s harmonics in order to take Male Alpha Watson down more quickly. It took three tranquilizers once I could shoot. Watson must have felt the tranquilizers about to take hold because he went to Sherlock and shielded the omega's body with his own. His last act before passing out was to protect his omega. He is not waking for at least another two hours. What you see is the end results of the damage done when Watson attacked Dennison.”

“I see.” Mycroft viewed the scene critically. “You were a witness, what exactly did Watson do? This is more than a couple of appendages.”

Mycroft pretended not to notice as Anthea and Gregory stared at him incredulously.

“Watson broke Dennison’s left leg in at least three places, before he popped the right leg at the knee. I _heard_ the breaks. He then ripped, _ripped_ , both arms from their fucking sockets! Dennison’s howls of pain pulled me out of the effects of the harmonics enough to start to tranq Watson. He then obliterated the man’s face with one punch – I seriously think that was to shut his screams up. I’m pretty sure that alone killed Dennison, but he kept going. Doctor John Watson was not in there. What did this was pure core feral alpha. I thought John had frightened me at Killa Kuppa when he unsheathed his claws. This…this was much worse. He caved in Dennison’s sternum and shredded the heart. He was in the midst of complete disembowelment when the tranquilizers finally kicked in and brought him down. I… I watched his claws retract when he went down. I forgot alphas could do that.” Greg’s gravelly voice had steadily rose as he spoke in the emotion of it. The detective inspector flicked his eyes to Mycroft’s hands again before he continued, “Parts of Dennison’s intestine and kidney had to be cleaned from Watson’s fingers. I have seen plenty of regular alpha fist fights. I have read about alphas going feral. I have seen videos of feral attacks. I have seen the aftermath of several and have witnessed a couple feral Alphas in action before. But this…? I tend to forget John is former Royal Army. Now, I don’t think I ever will. I was as stunned by his brutal efficiency as I was by the utter viciousness of it. I know alphas are stronger, faster than betas, yes, but John's speed…? I swear this happened in less than two minutes, Mycroft!”

_Lestrade, a seasoned officer accustomed to dealing with alphas and omegas is deeply affected by this. That must have been terrifying for a beta to watch up close and personal._

“Please call the team in, Anthea.”

“Already started, sir.”

In the distance, he spied the nod of acknowledgement from one of the agents for Sherlock on the scene. He knew the other would be hidden, but not far from Sherlock’s location himself. He returned the single nod and looked to the scene again.

Only the living had been moved. Mycroft now understood why Lestrade looked as he did. Dennison’s mangled body, guts and severed appendages remained where they had landed. Mycroft’s begrudging respect for the former army captain went up a few notches as he imagined how much more damage would have been done had Greg not tranquilized the alpha.

_That much damage in two minutes? Well done, Watson!_

He knew Greg and Anthea saw the small smile of satisfaction. Mycroft was Alpha, he understood. He did not care if they did not and ignored them.

Mycroft spotted three different CCTV security cameras. He looked to Anthea who nodded as she saw them also. Gregory had followed his eyes and knew what he wanted. “I already have the camera feeds locked down. Luckily, it is a closed circuit. Feed of the attack on Dennison won’t get out.”

Mycroft could not decide whether or not he looked forward to reviewing the video given Lestrade’s description and what was in front of him, but he would watch it regardless.

“My God, Mycroft.” Lestrade’s hand waved at a scene that could rival a horror film for sheer gore. “That… That right there is not just an alpha protecting his omega. That slaughter is the sickest display of love I have ever nearly thrown up on in my entire career and I bet those two arseholes haven’t even said I love you to each other yet!”

Mycroft saw as Anthea nodded in agreement.

“I promise I will love you twice as much if it should ever come to this.” Mycroft’s face did not so much as twitch as his eyes coolly looked to the momentarily stunned Lestrade.

Even so, Mycroft could not help it as the corner of his lip again turned up just a little at Gregory’s surprise and flush of delight at his words. This was the first time either had acknowledged their relationship in public. Including in front of Anthea who apparently figured it out on her own.

Gregory could not help the snort of smug pleasure that escaped. “At the least!”

Mycroft arched a warning brow at Anthea who blinked, but did not otherwise acknowledge she heard a thing, a small satisfied smile of her own curled her lips as she went back to working on her mobile.

* * *

 

John heard conversation from a distance.

“Sherlock?”

A distance that slowly closed in as the sound became clearer.

“Watson?”

John blinked, then squinted in the overhead lights.

“Tilt him up some, bright lights sometimes hurt when coming out.”

That voice he recognized. _Mycroft?_

“{Sherlock?}”

His query was met with silence as the head of the gurney was raised slightly until he stopped blinking.

“Sherlock?” He immediately tried to get up only to realize he was restrained.

 _Alphastrained_?

“{Sherlock!}”

“Sherlock!”

“Watson.” a firm hand touched his shoulder and John focused on it. “We’re getting his doctor now.”

He turned his head as much as he could to the direction of Mycroft’s voice.

“Where is my omega? Why am I in restraints?”  He did not care there was a growl in his voice.

“John, I won’t release you if you’re still partially feral.” Greg Lestrade’s voice pierced through the fog, the detective inspector sounded nervous.

“You already know, Mycroft, I know you do. My omega, my pups…” John’s eyes followed the hand that touched him to meet Mycroft’s, his own pleading. “Mycroft, please!”

“He’s heavily sedated. He will live, John.”

_“He will live." He didn’t… Mycroft did not mention the pups. Oh God! Sherlock!_

“Watson, listen to me and listen carefully. Are you listening?” Mycroft’s voice was crisp, demanding. “Watson!”

John gritted his teeth and nodded slowly, he felt the tears starting to well. He barely maintained composure as Lestrade slowly released him from the restraints.

Mycroft stood beside him, Lestrade slightly to Mycroft's right side, Anthea flanked Mycroft’s other side.

“John, I know you want to head straight to your omega, but he is sedated. Sherlock won’t know you’re there for a while.” Mycroft's cool eyes held his as John slowly sat up, “I know you don’t care, but you can’t go to him like this. Look at yourself.”

It was Mycroft’s tone more than anything else that made John look down at his clothes, at his hands.

_Jesus fucking Christ!_

He was bloody in a way he had not seen since...

_Since the program in Afghanistan._

Bloody in a way that he knew what happened and why he woke up alphastrained.

He groaned in dismay.

_Oh God, the monster, I went feral. There’s so much blood. I’ve killed someone._

The last thing he remembered was a flash of Dennison’s face and then heard Sherlock scream in harmonics.

John hadn’t realized he stood until he almost fell. Greg caught him and leaned him against the edge of the gurney.

_Feel funny…. Tranquilizers… Still in my system._

“Harmonics. Feral. Dennison?” John looked to Greg who nodded in confirmation.

He held up a hand to halt anything else being said and simply breathed. “Just… Just give me a moment.”

He took in several deep breaths to help clear his head.

_It’s not the first time you’ve gone feral._

Deep breath.

_Be honest. It’s Sherlock. It likely won’t be your last._

Deep breath.

_Your omega lost his pups._

He gritted his teeth against the pain that flashed through him. Deep breath.

_Your omega is going to need you._

Deep breath.

He looked around and realized his location. Maternity.

_He’s in Maternity. Sherlock is in Maternity. He’s still pregnant!_

Deep breath.

He noted the slight incline of Mycroft's head. Mycroft knew he figured it out.

_Sherlock, my omega... I’m… I’m going to be a father? We’re having pups. He's having my pups! I need to get to my omega!_

_Get your act and your pack together, soldier!_

Deep breath.

He noted Mycroft’s minute nod and the move of Greg’s hand from his waist. He realized then Lestrade was fully prepared to tranq him again if needed.

_Okay, John. No alpha fast moves._

“I have a change of clothes and toiletries in my office downstairs. I will shower and change. When I am done I expect to see Leon.”  John looked to Mycroft.

“Anthea already has someone coming up with your things.” Mycroft nodded “Taveras is checking on another patient here, but has been notified you were waking. How did you know Taveras was his OmObGyn?”

_Really Frosty?_

“It’s Lord Sherlock Holmes of Musgrave. On his own he’s from an Elite Pack family. That alone carries the necessary clout. From me, I am somewhat known in my field of omega studies here in London and abroad. Taveras and I have collaborated before, that carries clout. From you it’s your baby brother and Leon Taveras is the best OmObGyn in London in studies, in experience and in temperament and you _only_ deal with the best.” John looked at Mycroft oddly for having wasted breath to ask such an inane question, “Who else would my omega have?”

Mycroft pulled his usual sour lemon face, but behind him John saw as Anthea nodded in approval with his assessment and Greg half smiled amused.

He stood up from the gurney as a minion approached with his belongings.

“John?” Greg reached under the gurney and pulled out several plastic bags. “Sorry. I have to come with for collection.”

_Evidence bags. My clothes. Christ._

Deep breath.

“Understood. Is that why you’re in scrubs?” John acknowledged Greg’s very different clothing items.

“Yeah, I had to turn mine in as well. Someone is picking up fresh clothes for me from home. Sally is processing Mary and starting the paperwork on Dennison.”

“Processing Mary who?”

Mycroft and Anthea looked at him. Greg had the clear _Oh Shite_ expression of someone who just realized they let the cat out of the bag.

He knew then.

_My Mary._

He knew it was not going to be good. “Tell me.”

“Mary was here looking for you, but she saw Sherlock first.” Greg explained.

John hackles went up. He knew something important was omitted.

_Mary was being processed._

_Oh my God!_

“What. Did. She. Do. To my. Omega?”

Greg told the alpha of Mary's part in what happened to Sherlock.

“You’re telling me my wife, a woman who dedicated her life to helping young women, teen girls and especially omega teens female and male, knowingly kneed a pregnant omega? She kneed _my_ _pregnant_ omega because she thought we had sex?” John’s voice had dropped to dangerous levels as his fury rose anew.

Greg’s hand flew to his waist.

“Watson!” Mycroft snapped his finger in front his face getting his attention. “Sherlock needs you. We don't have time for you to come out of another tranquilizer.”

_Focus Watson!_

Deep breath.

“She already knew we had sex. It happened before she left. It was the day Jerry…” His anger petered-out immediately as the enormity of it fully struck.

_It was the onset of his heat, he was supposed to go to Baker Street that evening, but Jerry died and he came to me instead. We mated that day. That means Sherlock is fourteen weeks pregnant! He was already pregnant when Mary left. He was already pregnant when he said it. And he… He didn’t... He didn’t abort!_

“Get me Leon!” John ordered Mycroft as he grabbed his clean clothes and stalked toward one of the staff showers.


	44. If You Could Read My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hospital Omega Sherlock Holmes tries to deal with his loss with and anger at his Alpha John Watson.

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open in the dim light of the room.

_Daylight. Afternoon. Raining._

It was a room he recognized having been there several times via the various kerfuffle he’d managed to find himself in over the years.

None of it ever had felt like this.

The shock of losing Victor had never felt as bad as this.

This was one of the rare times in the genius’ life that he understood the pure cold logic he used in his day-to-day life will not help him here.  

_My pup. My child._

_Why‽_

_I never really thought I would ever bring children into this world and if I did I never thought I’d lose one._

_I know I am not the best of people, but am I that bad the universe takes its vengeance thus? And to let me hear it?_

_Why?_

They thought he was unconscious and he was for most of it, but he had awakened sporadically.

[“Maternal blunt trauma.”]

[“Severe placental abruption”]

[“We’re going to lose him!”]

[“We can save the others and the omega.”]

He was fully awake for when Dr. Taveras told John who simply nodded as the details were explained to the doctor.

[“What was done...I had to choose … It came down to save three lives or lose four.”]

[“We couldn’t save her.”]

[“Her?”]

[“Yes, a female. The tests results are not all back, for confirmation, but experience tells me omega.”]

A sound was heard. It took the _Alpha Hurt_ reaching Sherlock for him to process it was a moan of pain from the alpha.

[“I’m so sorry John. We tried.”]

[“I know you did, Leon. Thank you.”]

His eyes still closed, Sherlock heard as John walked to the side of his bed. He did not move, knowing John thought him still asleep.  He felt the heat of John's hand as he caressed his head, his fingers in his curls, Alpha Hurt, Alpha Protect and Alpha Comfort poured over the omega as John sat by the bed. The omega kept his eyes closed feigning sleep while the alpha slowly wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s.

   
_[Sickness (color)](https://www.deviantart.com/xxxxxx6x/art/sickness-color-299088695) by xxxxxx6x_

Steady but deep breaths told Sherlock John fell asleep beside the bed, still holding his hand. Sherlock dared to slowly open an eye. He realized John’s head was turned and opened his eyes fully. He started to reach out and touch the familiar silver-streaked head. Sherlock knew John wanted to do more. He is Alpha, he knew John desperately wanted to hold him, but he also knew after three months of silence, John did not know where he stood with the omega. He pulled his hand back.

Sherlock slowly sat up in the bed. His movement woke John and he stared in those tearful blue eyes, his own eyes welling, but he refused to cry in front of John.

“You silenced me. Did you know?”

John looked surprised.

_He’s surprised I know. So, he knew what he did._

Sherlock knew he was wrong. He knew two wrongs did not make it right. Sherlock was not even sure he could do it. Sherlock did it anyway.

“{Do not touch me!}”

The alpha blinked and recoiled from him as though burned. Sherlock did not try to hide smugness he knew was on his face.

“Sherlock…”

“For three months, John? Nearly three bloody months!” The words came out through gritted teeth.

“I admit I said the words because I was furious, with you - punishing you.”

“Punishing me‽ John, what the bloody hell could even I have possibly done that you would abandon me for three months?” Sherlock looked at him aghast.

He saw the flash of anger, before John took a breath to speak.

“You know what? I. Don’t. Care.” Sherlock said coldly, “I’ve spent the past fourteen weeks trying to talk to you and could not. Now that I can, I don’t even want to look at you. Get out, John.”

“Sherlock, please!” John grabbed his hand.

“{GET OUT!}”

Sherlock took satisfaction as the alpha flinched again.

“Just go John. Go.” Sherlock snatched his hand away.

_How are you touching me? So, I cannot command you as you can me? No. I will not have it!_

“No! Listen to me!” John started to reach for Sherlock again.

In his haste to move out of John’s reach Sherlock felt the pull at his stitches and winced in pain. John backed away quickly as he sent calm pheromones to him. He could not help but take them in, letting them settle him. He breathed deeply and laid a protective hand on his abdomen. He saw the raw need of the alpha. John wanted to touch him. Wanted to help him. He fought against his omega instinct that wanted to appease his alpha. He was still too angry to care.

_He can make me listen to him? Would he do it even now? I don’t know._

He did not know if John could be that cruel again. It hurt badly enough knowing he had been that cruel at all.

“You’re hurting me, John. You’re hurting _us_.” Sherlock turned away from the alpha. “Just leave me.”

When Sherlock fell asleep he had not turned back around and John had not left the room.

Sherlock awakened slowly. His eyes lighted on the IV bag and the reality of where. He woke him fully. He felt a touch at his opposite hand.

_John_

The alpha seated beside his bed asleep, his hand touching Sherlock’s. He reached out to stroke John’s hair grateful his alpha was there and had protected him and their pups.

Avenged their pup.

_That’s what an alpha should do. Not silence their omega!_

The heat of Sherlock’s anger woke John. His head popped up to look at him.

“Sherlock…I’m…”

“I told you. I. Don’t. Care.” Sherlock snatched his hand away. “Please leave and do not come back, John. I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Dammit, Sherlock.”

“How DARE you be angry at me!” Sherlock hissed, “I will tell you once more: GET OUT!”

He winced as he pointed to the door.  He felt John’s hurt and resignation as he turned and walked away. This time Sherlock watched as John left the room.  He waited until he heard John’s footsteps fade before he turned his back. He let the tears fall as he fell asleep again.

When he awakened John was gone. Sherlock slowly sat up and sniffed deeply. He did not sense John anywhere.

_Good._

  
_[Pain Management 2](https://www.deviantart.com/theceruleanfeline/art/Pain-Management-2-Sherlock-in-the-Hospital-683454033) by TheCeruleanFeline_

* * *

 

It was late in the evening when Mycroft came by the hospital again. His brother was held for observation for another day He was doing much better and scheduled for release the next day. As always, he checked for the hidden security and gave a curt nod to the guard dressed as an orderly with the Glock 17 covered by his scrubs. That fine line of keeping his brother as safe as possible while not interfering with his life was always a trial for the beleaguered security assigned to him. Mycroft did not fault either of the two on duty when Sherlock was hurt.

The video had shown one guard had his gun drawn on Mary, fully prepared to shoot when John came out of seemingly nowhere and attacked Dennison even as Donovan took down Mary. The other guard was down on the floor as he grimaced from Sherlock’s harmonics, but still had a gun on Dennison.

The only time it was easy was when the younger Holmes brother slept or was hospitalized. And even that was not a guarantee as his brother had famously escaped from his hospital bed hours after surgery to remove a bullet from his midsection while on a case.

For now, it was easier, Sherlock was asleep.

It was a troubled sleep from the frown on the omega’s face as he groaned in his sleep. Mycroft watched the lines of the heart monitor, the omega’s heart rate was elevated.

_How bad is it that I have seen your heart rate on so many vital sign monitors over the years that I know what is and is not normal for you, Brother Mine, even as you sleep?_

Mycroft was minded of when his baby brother had nightmares as a child and call out in distress. He would come into young Sherlock’s room and stroked the boy’s head through the mop of dark curls until he settled. All that remained of that young boy were the curls.

_He’s deep asleep he would never know. He needs rest for the pups’ sake, this is not rest._

Mycroft tentatively laid a hand in his brother’s hair. When Sherlock barely stirred he slowly began to run his fingers through as he had when they were children. Just as he had then, Sherlock slowly calmed and fell into a quieter sleep.

_That young boy is about to have young ones of his own soon. I imagine he will do this for his pups. Time does indeed fly._

Mycroft took a seat by the bed and pulled out his laptop to work.

“Good evening, Uncle Myc.” A familiar voice greeted him softly a while later.

He looked up to see his brother’s pale eyes.

“My nieces and-or nephews will be so kind as to make their way all the way to end of my name, I hope.”

“Eventually. As I had.” Sherlock gave him a small smile. Mycroft could still see the pain in them.

“How are you feeling?”  

“I spoke to him.” Sherlock sighed.

“I know.” Mycroft did not have to ask who, for Sherlock there can be only one him, his alpha – John Watson. Still, he knew there was more to be said and it was not going to be good. Mycroft waited.

“I also kicked him out and told him to go away.”

Mycroft bit his lip.

_He’s wished for months to speak to the man. Why? John knows about the pregnancy._

_Is he finally going to tell me?_

“I’m waiting….” he prompted when Sherlock had not spoken for a moment.

“I do not know how to explain it, Mycroft. John somehow commanded me to not speak to him. But command is not the right word. He did not just speak the words. I heard and yet felt them in my mind and body in a way that seared to the core of me.” Sherlock frowned at a rare loss of words. “Mummy described how it felt when she tried to go against Father when he commanded her, but it’s not the same. Victor commanded me once, I understood that, I could fight it. But this, what John did was…more.”

“Fine. Do not explain it. Just tell me.”

He listened as his brother told of when John _silenced_ him. How it physically pained him when he attempted any communication with John even through a third party or a letter. How he had done nothing but lie to nearly everyone who actually cared as he hid his pregnancy. He had no idea what would have happened to him and thus their pups if anyone interceded on his behalf.

_John can command his omega. Sherlock is certain John is aware of this talent. He would say nothing to me of it were he unsure._

“That is why you made me give my word as you did. Knowing I would not gainsay such a promise otherwise.” Mycroft nodded as he thought.

_Something is wrong about this. John loves him even if he does not know or admit he does. He would not knowingly harm Sherlock. Especially if he knew my brother was expecting._

“And it is why I must ask you again for the same that you will not touch him. He is their father.” Sherlock touched his abdomen with a bittersweet smile “I do not know where John and I stand. As Alpha and Second mate, or as simply alpha and omega now.”

“As I had disliked John and it surprises me that I choose to defend him now, but I must say that does not sound like him, Sherlock.” Mycroft grimaced on the words.

“Disliked? You like him now?” Sherlock looked to him.

“I must reluctantly admit that, except for this silencing, the alpha has proven his dedication to you repeatedly, Sherlock.” Mycroft sat forward his hands together under his chin as he thought on what Sherlock has told him.

“If he is so dedicated to me, where the bloody hell has my alpha been for the past three months when I have needed him most?” Sherlock spat the hurt radiating from him.

_“My alpha.” “When I have needed him most.”_

_Does he even hear himself? Sherlock has never openly admitted ever_ needing _anyone. He had loved Victor, deeply, but never can I recall my brother saying that he needed the man. This is not hormones. I can scent the difference._

“He was here at King’s working. Or trying to.” Mycroft answered, “Reports state he has been unusually moody of late. Prone to suddenly cancelling appointments and changing plans. Doctor Arturo Ryan at first believed it was his usual depression when he misses Mary. Ryan was overheard a few days ago saying to another doctor that John has been more morose than usual for him and was not coming out of it as he usually did.”

Mycroft thought of how John held Sherlock and told him to rest, to sleep. He remembered how Sherlock had fallen asleep not long after John said the words. Mycroft had presumed it was merely his brother’s exhaustion after such an emotional exchange. He himself had cancelled his plans with Lestrade and gone home. He did not know what to make of it.

_I have never heard of an alpha being possessed of such except in ancient folklore. I do not doubt my brother’s word of what his alpha can do. I cannot believe I’m prepared to defend John Watson, but truth may be truth. I do doubt that it was of malicious intent. That is not John to be intentionally cruel._

“You are both such stubborn and blind men to your own combined detriments.” Mycroft sighed. “You kept your word in telling me what is going on. You have my absolute word no harm will befall the father of your pups. Now, how are you and the pups feeling?”

“Joy that they survive. Remorse for the loss of Seren.”

_Seren? He named her._

“Seren? From the Welsh meaning star?” Mycroft looked to him.

“Yes. She is among them in the universe now. John’s grandmother was Welsh. I’m hoping it is okay by him. We have not discussed it yet.” Sherlock sighed quietly. “I know he’s had a rough couple of days between scheduled major surgeries and the inquiry into both Dennison and Mary. Though I imagine the latter has been more the Damoclean Blade1 to him.”

“I can imagine. The crystal shard you gave my lab has now been matched to several locales. Locales one Mary Elizabeth Watson née Morstan’s DNA should not have been anywhere near, were she actually in Bolivia with Médecins Sans Frontières.” Mycroft stated and got the pleasure of seeing a dark brow rise in interest.

“Oh? Any locales that might be of interest to me?”

“Sherlock, you know how I loathe leg work.” Mycroft teased, “But there are some _Sudamericana_ coincidences…”

“And what do we say of coincidences…?” Sherlock nodded his interest piqued.

“The universe is rarely so lazy.” Mycroft handed Sherlock the file he had at the ready.

The best healing for his brother, besides his alpha, is always a good puzzle.

_The puzzle for now. We’ll see about the alpha anon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to drop hints that aren't too cryptic without giving everything away. Unfortunately, that sometimes means I hide what I think is a good clue a little too well. In C35 I wrote:  
>  _"Sherlock shuddered in pleasure of the feel of John's knot pressed against his walls. The heat of his alpha's come pooled inside him satiated him. Flares of warmth bloomed within him and all he could feel was home."_
> 
> A couple of paragraphs later I added:  
>  _"He felt another flare of warmth as John licked and kissed the nape of his neck."_
> 
> They had triplets. He and John now have twins.
> 
> * * *
> 
>    
> Damoclean Blade  
> Damocles served in a royal court. At a party he once said to the King Dionysius that is must be good to have such fortune. The king asked Damocles if he wanted to serve in the throne for a day. Of course, Damocles said yes. Dionysius arranged for Damocles to sit on the throne, but with a very sharp sword hanging over the man's head held by a single strand of horsehair. When Damocles looked up and saw the sword he then understood that with power and fortune also come threat and fear. Damocles was not so keen to enjoy the spoils of being king after that.
> 
> Essentially, a Damoclean Blade is a situation which causes a prolonged sense of impending doom or misfortune for a person. 
> 
> Sherlock is acknowledging the turmoil of the situation with Mary being more of a worry to John than his going feral on Dennison. ^ return to paragraph ^


	45. I See You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega Sherlock Holmes, Alpha John Watson and Alpha Familiar Mycroft Holmes deal with life, death and possible secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving Day here in the US. Here is me taking a moment to give thanks to you wonderful readers with an extra chapter - enjoy!

It was late in the evening when with much prodding Sherlock was able to get Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson out of the flat. Mycroft had brought him home from the hospital a couple of hours ago. He was still too angry with John to let his alpha bring him. Mrs. Hudson of course fussed over him. He pondered a couple of cases for a bit, but his heart was not in it. When he hung up his suit jacket, he felt a little flutter. He thought he felt something similar in the hospital yesterday, but then nothing, so he had mentally put it aside. Here it was again.

_What is that?_

He placed a gentle hand on his abdomen and decided to change into his pyjamas to be more comfortable. He had just put the kettle on when he felt it again. Just a flutter, a quickening but definite movement.

 _Oh_!

Taveras had told him everything was fine with the twins. And while he believed the doctor, he had worried.

_The feeling of Seren…_

_No, do NOT do this to yourself. You can't delete it, but you cannot dwell on it either._

_Focus on the living, Sherlock_.

He sat in a chair and felt the tiny movement yet again. He grinned, as he finally understood what it was.

_Why, hello little ones. I feel you. I am Daddy...Papa?_

Visions went through his mind of brilliant blond and compassionate dark-haired tots screaming for their fathers.

_Daddy. I'm your daddy, Sherlock, and John is your Papa. I wonder, are you moving enough that he would be able to feel you also? He should be here._

With a sharp pang, he knew that was the truth. John should be here.

_Before it was John’s fault. Now it is mine. I am sorry. I do not know how to not be angry yet and it is so unfair to you. I have read the books; you need him as much as I, I know this._

Sherlock sighed. He had read the books, the journals, the internet articles. Things he already knew, new things to learn. Things he never wanted to know. At fifteen weeks, he was reaching the stage where John could begin to imprint himself upon their pups. They would be born already knowing their parents by touch and scent.

[“… _you need him as much as I_ …”]

Sherlock wanted to tell himself it was hormones, but he knew it for the lie it was. He wanted John. He wanted to share these remarkable moments like this with him by his side. He would see him the day after tomorrow at Seren’s memorial.

_Oh Seren, I am so sorry!_

He felt himself about to fall into a moment of depression when he suddenly felt _comfort_ and _care._

_And love?_

All of yesterday and the day before while at the hospital he had felt constant waves of comfort and love. Though he had not lain eyes on the alpha since he asked him to leave his room and not return, he knew it came from John. He told the alpha not to touch him. He had told the alpha to leave.

He did not tell the alpha not to care for him.

_John is doing the best he can under the harsh parameters I’ve set._

Sherlock went to the window and peeked between the curtains. A familiar jag sat up the block. He could see John hunched over the steering wheel.

_John. I see you. I feel you. I just can’t forgive you yet._

Sherlock left the window to have tea and to rest as instructed by Taveras.

  
Sherlock Holmes  - Art by [Axis](https://www.zerochan.net/.Axis.)

* * *

 

“I am not going to tell you your business John, but…”

“I know, Leon, I need him too. We’re both just…”

“He is my patient, John, I know who he is. You’re both just stubborn prideful arseholes who fucking deserve each other.” Leon Taveras clapped John on the arm sympathetically as he went to sit.

Now that he knew, John had taken advantage of his professional and personal friendship with Dr. Leon Taveras to get updates on the omega that now refused to talk to him. Now that John knew, Taveras was grateful to be open with his colleague and friend. It was late afternoon, both were officially off shift were having a tea in Leon’s office. Because they were good friends, John gave his fellow doctor the gist of the tensions between him and his omega.

“Honestly, John he really is healing quite well. If I did not know he came in here just last week for emergency surgery, I would have thought he was further along in the healing process. I can see sitting still is not in that omega’s character except when he’s doing…” Leon waved his hand around as though trying to remember something. “Doing that thinking thing he does.”

“You mean when he’s in his mind palace.” John offered. “I almost thought he had gone spontaneously catatonic when I first saw him slip into it.”

“Yes, that. Mind Palace. Damn. He would have a palace, wouldn’t he?” Leon laughed, “Regardless, he needs to rest. I understand he is an omega who does not take orders well.”

“God no. It’s why he’s not speaking to me now.” John shook his head hard in confirmation “Only three people even knew he was pregnant. You couldn’t tell me because of doctor-patient confidentiality. He made his brother swear not to tell me and Sally figured it out that day, just before, just before  it all...”

John waved his hand unwilling to finish the thought. Leon nodded in understanding.

“It was not that he did not want to tell me, I had accidentally…commanded… his silence before he knew. He could not tell me. I…I find out I am an expectant father in the moments before I lose a pup. Regrettably, he and I both know how to hold a grudge. Now that my omega can talk to me - he won’t.” John sighed as he sipped his tea, “Want to know what the most irrational thing in this whole cockup is?”

“What?” Leon took a sip of his own tea.

“I miss him, Leon. I miss him. Not my wife of six years, _him_. I still cannot wrap my head around what she did to him. And Dennison I…” John sighed and rubbed a rough hand over his face.

John still had not quite come to terms with what he did to Dennison. Alpha vengeance, fought with the doctor compassion.

Against his better judgement, and though both Greg and Mycroft fervently advised against it, curiosity had got the best of John and he asked to see the footage.

_Christ! That had been a mistake._

All alphas know what they are capable of. The rare alpha makes it to adulthood without getting into one serious altercation where he or she gets to test their mettle against another. John has served in the military, he has seen the aftermath of his actions.

But he had never seen himself _in action_.

Yes, his _Alpha Rage_ had sparked anew seeing how Franklyn and Mary attacked Sherlock in the video, but it paled in the shock as felt as he watched his core monster charge the large alpha. Franklyn Dennison was a man he considered, if not exactly a friend, at the very least a respected colleague and John had torn the man apart, literally. Experience told him he would have done more and worse to the man if Lestrade’s tranquilizers had not kicked in and taken him down. He was not sickened as he watched himself, he had more than enough guts and blood as a soldier and a doctor under his belt for that, but John now understand the mercy of why alphas black out when feral.

The only redeeming thing was seeing how he even in full feral monster he processed that he was tranquilized and moved to protect his omega. Unconsciousness had finally taken Sherlock and the painful harmonics ceased. Bloodied and all he had pulled the omega close to him. The alpha had let loose one warning growl as he curled his body around the fetal shape that was his omega in protection. Greg had yelled for help as the detective inspector bravely came up to the alpha and omega and separated them once John's body went slack. A move that could have cost the beta his life were either he or Sherlock conscious, for a feral omega in protection of their children or their downed mate was an equally vicious thing to behold. John watched as Donovan had manhandled Mary and kept her down while it all unfolded and then had taken her away as Sherlock received emergency attention. Watched, as his unconscious body was alphastrained. Watched as various people fought being sick, some of whom lost that battle.

And in the midst of it lay what remained of Franklyn Alonso Dennison.

John desperately wished for that bliss of not knowing as he shuddered in the memory.

“Stop it John.” Taveras snapped a finger in front of him “Try not to beat yourself up over Dennison. It happened. It was bad. You… What you did… Fuck John, I saw the aftermath while getting Sherlock out of there. Still, there is not a father or father-to-be, even a beta, who would not respect your actions. As a beta father myself and someone who knows both you and your omega personally, I think Dennison got off fucking easy.”

“Leon!” John looked to the man surprised.

“I’m a vengeful fuck, what can I tell you. I would kill over my children and you’ve always been hot-tempered.” Taveras smiled a wicked smile that made John glad they were friends. “Seriously, John, go to your omega. If you can’t get him to talk, at least get him to rest. And get some rest yourself. Doctor, heal thyself.”

An hour later found him turning into the block of Baker Street just as a familiar black sedan pulled off.

_Mycroft’s just leaving? He brought Sherlock home hours ago._

He took the spot vacated by the sedan and sent the Alpha Proxy a quick text.

He would have known Sherlock was home regardless. His awareness of the omega had grown exponentially over the past year when he fully opened his senses. He can pull the omega’s unique scent from several rooms away. He easily scented Sherlock was in the living room before he looked up and saw the lights were on.

Betas, unless surrounded in an abundance of a singular emotion thereof, they generally cannot sense alpha and omega pheromones. For most alphas and omegas in their everyday lives, various moods can easily be sensed by each other in passing it’s a part of the white noise of all scent, thus, most do not bother to shield or block them unless knowingly in the presence of other alphas and omegas. Like white noise, unless actively attuning oneself to it, it is not overly noticed. John sought out his omega’s scent and easily knew where Sherlock puttered around the flat.

_He just got home today. I really do not want to get him more upse… whoa!_

John felt Sherlock’s sudden elation. He smiled as he sat in the car happy to know something is bringing the omega a moment of joy.

_He’s at fifteen weeks. Does he feel them, yet? Is that it?_

And just like that the flash of joy became one of despair and John knew Sherlock was thinking of their daughter.

_No. Don’t go there. I feel you, my omega._

He slumped over the steering. It hurt to think of their lost child himself, still, John sent comfort and care pheromones to Sherlock.

And love _._

John sent all the love he could and hoped Sherlock was receptive to that, if not to him.

_I’m sorry. You took me by surprise. I was not aware of you know of my having compelled you until you told me. Of course, you would deduce what I’ve done. Of course, you are going to be angry with me now. Of course, now that you can speak to me you won’t. And of course, all of this is so damned obvious to me in the 20/20 of hindsight._

In his alpha fury over the abortion threat, he had unknowingly compelled the omega not to speak. Sherlock had not spoken to him for nearly three months, not because he did not want to, but because _he could not_.

_And idiot that I am mistook your silence for anger and apathy. For nearly three fucking months! Leon is right we’re both stubborn prideful arseholes._

John knew Leon Taveras thought John simply said words and Sherlock obeyed. He wanted to compel Sherlock to rest as Taveras wanted. If he compelled the omega to rest, would he?

He realized the answer was _yes_. If any omega had been able to break a compelling, it would have been Sherlock once he deduced it. Still, John could not make himself do it, to compel the omega to rest, in light of everything, even for Sherlock’s own good.

A change in mood made John look up at the windows of 221B and saw the movement as the curtains closed.

_He knows I am here, he feels me, but still does not want to see me._

He felt it as Sherlock calmed, knew that he puttered around again. After a while, he felt when Sherlock went to sleep.

He grimaced as he saw the ever-familiar black sedan turned the corner, pulled up along his and Mycroft stepped out a moment later.

_I had said not to bug my house. I’m at Sherlock’s and I did text him._

He disengaged the lock just as Mycroft touched the passenger door and climbed in.

* * *

 

“He’s asleep. Drive.” Mycroft pulled his seatbelt on.

“Good evening to you too.” John turned on the engine and pulled away, “Afraid I’ll start yelling and wake him?”

“No. But I might.” Mycroft said calmly. John raised a curious brow, but kept driving. Mycroft chuckled silently to himself.

_If I said, I might yell anyone else would at least pretend to worry, not Watson. The only other man, not a relative or a colleague, who stands up to me so is Gregory._

_That which does not fear me protects my brother._

It was not often Mycroft was a simple passenger in the front seat of a civilian vehicle. Accustomed to being chauffeured and usually working as he rode, if he gazed through the window it was through tinted glass. When he drove himself, his concentration was on the road. They drove in silence for a while as Mycroft simply enjoyed the sights before he spoke.

“You had texted you wanted to speak, John. I presume that meant words would be said by you at some point.”

John sighed deeply in response.

“I was hoping for a little more than that.”

John pulled over, parked the car and faced him. “Omega Emancipation.”

_What?_

"Excuse me?"

“Has an omega ever asked for emancipation from their alpha?”

 _I seriously wonder what my face looks like right now. I have no idea what_ gobsmacked _, as this young generation says, looks like on me. From John’s reaction, it is not a good look. Sherlock has not asked for such from John, he would have come straight to me first. What is John doing?_

“Do you want to be emancipated from my brother?”

“No! God no! Even before I knew he was expecting, I would have never wanted that. I am still fully prepared to do whatever to keep him as my omega. I know he is angry with me, but I… I still want him if he’ll have me.”

_“My omega.” John has said that Sherlock was his from the beginning. He tells the truth. He does care deeply for my brother. Yet the way he says it now – he wants, no he believes Sherlock is his. Thinks of my brother as his. However, he is afraid it may no longer be reciprocal._

_What the bloody hell happened between the two?_

“I meant for other omegas who want to break from their alphas." John’s thumb tapped the steering wheel as he spoke, “I know we mate for life because most are not willing to go through the agonizing pain of severance or the slow agony and length time via abandonment to be free. Nevertheless, for both parties who are willing, it can be something akin to a beta divorce. The omega can be emancipated and be free, regardless of whether they have sired. If a widowed omega who has sired is considered worthy enough to be on their own, how can an unbounded omega who hasn't the responsibility of children, as how I met Sherlock, be unworthy? And I mean for them to be truly free, not to have the threat of breeders over their heads of course. I get that my omega is unique in his intelligence, but there have to be educated omegas with alphas that would be willing to try the separation to prove the point. A stepping stone of sorts.”

“That is actually an interesting idea.” Mycroft nodded.

John clearly had not expected his easy acceptance of the idea.

_Well, I know what gobsmacked looks like on Watson._

“It has its merits, Watson. I am rather surprised Sherlock himself had not thought to tell you we've discussed it.” Mycroft sat back.

John stilled for a moment; he looked crestfallen.

_Oh. He thinks Sherlock and I discussed this over the past three months, not long before they met._

“I cannot speak on that.” John admitted at last.

“And why not?” Mycroft arched a brow.

“You know I have barely seen him in three months. I… I do not know how he feels.” John looked out at the street. “Maybe he wants away from me now.”

_“Now.” Therefore, at some point you felt my brother wanted you as much as you still want him._

_I swear you two are ridiculous._

“Can you tell me why you _silenced him_ to begin with?”

John turned to Mycroft. The Alpha Familiar felt the bright flares of alpha fury and fear spark before the doctor stamped it down hard.

_Is Watson upset that anyone knows, or just that I do?_

“Three months ago, my omega told my lying alpha wife that if by some miracle I managed to impregnate him, he’d kill my children.”

“No!” Mycroft gasped in disbelief, “You lie!”

“Do I?” John rested forehead on his hands on the steering wheel.

John could not have hidden the pain in his voice if he tried. The man had not so much as blinked that Mycroft had openly expressed an emotion, an angry one at that.

 _There was no way John would have let that pass were he not so hurt by it_. _Good God, Brother Mine, what were you thinking‽_

All alphas innately understood the only thing more dangerous than threatening an alpha's life was to threaten their pack even the potential of one. One of an omega’s instincts is to want to give their alpha a pack. That Sherlock had resisted that intrinsic urge with Victor was a testament to his inner strength. Still, to threaten to kill the potential pups of his own alpha was such a hateful thing. Alphas have gone feral for such.

Mycroft’s mouth closed with an audible click as he deduced the doctor. John leaned back in his seat and sank down into it as he ran a hand over his face. Mycroft slowly closed his eyes as his own head sank into his hands. He remembered how Sherlock openly threatened the alpha's life less than twenty-four hours into being bonded.

He believed John.

_John could have hurt Sherlock so badly for that alone, this could have got him killed with the wrong alpha. Foolhardy does not begin to describe my baby brother at times._

“The arrangement for my not having told you about your impending fatherhood was that once you knew, Sherlock would tell me what happened. My brother and I may, and often do, lie to each other by omission. We are well aware that we do so regardless, which often negates the effort, but we never, never give falsifications when it is of importance. You an alpha chose not to speak to my brother, your bonded omega, for three months. My brother _could not_ speak to his alpha for three months. He explains it as you _silenced_ him – his words. I am asking you, what did you do to my brother?”

There was a faint trace of threatening pheromones coming from the Alpha Familiar, Mycroft knew John felt it; it was to be expected given the circumstances.

“Mycroft. With all due respect, there are things that should only be between an alpha and his omega.” John said carefully as his guard went up, “That being said. The thing I did, I was not aware of having done such until it was undone and your brother told me. As for why it took three months, I think Leon Taveras said it best with: _you’re both stubborn prideful arseholes who fucking deserve each other_.”

John gave pause as he looked at the Alpha Familiar carefully.

Mycroft knew he gave off threatening icicles that had clung to each word. He understood now that the alpha was well within his rights had he physically done anything to Sherlock for what he said. Having seen exactly what a feral Alpha John Watson can do, it was Mycroft who then gave pause as he thanked the universe then that the only thing John Watson had done to his brother was stop him from speaking to him.

“He does not know I know he has said it.” John admitted, “I was furious. I _told_ him not to speak to me. To not communicate with me in any way.”

Mycroft cleared his throat politely, but definitively. For the first time he felt a touch of fear from the man.

_He is withholding something._

“Watson.” Mycroft prompted.

“I told you, Mycroft, there are things only be between alpha and omega. I meant that.” John flexed his shoulder.

“He's going to tell me, regardless.”

John sniffed with dark amusement.  

_He is that sure Sherlock will not. Why?_

“Your car is behind mine.” John said dismissively as he glanced in the rearview mirror.

“We are not done.”

“Are you going to have me detained?” it was as much a question as a smug warning. Mycroft felt the threat level rise in the alpha.

_That is just about enough out of you, pissant!_

“Watson, you live because I know my brother… would not like it otherwise.” Mycroft evoked the full level of ice capable as he stepped out of the car. He bent in to look at John. “Please remember once Sherlock gives birth… Emancipation becomes a moot point for him. He will no longer need you alive to be free.”

Not waiting for a reaction, Mycroft stood, slammed the door and walked to the black sedan that waited for him.

Mycroft had nearly said, “Because I know my brother loves you even if he does not want to admit it.”  

_John wants to keep his secrets; I will keep Sherlock’s secrets._

Back in his own sedan, Mycroft thought several ways he could have Watson interviewed, without technically breaking his word to his brother. It would be in breach of the spirit of it and he did not want to add to his brother's stress. Still, the threat was worth it to have wiped the smug look off the alpha's face.

_He is not denying he did something. Just his awareness of having done it. He knows he can do something._

“I need a deep history on Watson.” Mycroft looked to his assistant; her fingers hovered above her mobile in wait.

“Anything specific, sir?”

“Deeper than what we have so far. Deeper than what I know you ran on Lestrade.”

Mycroft’s mind was on Watson, not paying attention to his words or his tone until he sensed the beta’s flash of alarm.

“Sir! I…” Anthea froze; her beautiful eyes went wide.

“Apologies, Anthea. I fully expected you to do so once you knew. It was not a reprimand. I would have been sorely disappointed had you not done so.”  He gave a short smile to his PA. “I need one just as thoroughly done on Watson.”

“Yes, sir.” She bent her head back to her mobile.

“Whatever you can find. You'll know when you see it. That man has a secret that affects my brother.”

“Understood, sir.” Anthea’s finger flew over her mobile again as she started the request.


	46. From Whence We Came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega Sherlock Holmes and Alpha John Watson try to deal with loss, each other and Mycroft.

The quiet ride to the service was heart breaking.

The unborn, the stillborn and pups under a year go to the omega side of the family. After their first birthday, they go to the alpha side. It was a very small private service that placed Seren in a memorial garden on the Holmes family plot. Less than fifteen people attended, all but the parents carried a silver star-shaped balloon. 

A heavy rain had marked the morning, but as the day progressed, the sun fell upon them as they stood at the memorial.

_The sunshine follows the rain._

Mycroft saw the bittersweet smiles of the heartbroken alpha and omega as John pointed to the rainbow that had formed as they placed her tiny urn upon the makeshift alter and a small arrangements of flowers laid around her.

“We are conceived  
and float to an existence  
Expected to grow old

Then are returned to the earth  
From whence we came  
To become one with the forevermore

In between we fall and rise  
We laugh and cry  
And the lucky ones find love

The paths all differ  
Yet is the same road tread  
Some as common, some as czar

But I have come to believe  
Some souls are just too beautiful  
For a mere shell of flesh to hold

That some are borne of the heavens  
To ride comets and meteors  
Not for our ways to shape and score

For how does one contain  
Sunlight and moonbeams  
This is what Seren was made of

Thus, we come to lay down to sleep  
She who had not the chance to wake  
As into this earth we dedicate a star.”

Dr. Molly Hooper kissed her fingers and then pressed them softly to the urn when she finished her poem. The fathers barely spoke during the service. Their eyes reddened and wet as they thanked her.

Mycroft watched as Sherlock picked up and cradled the small urn, containing the tiny amount of Seren Holmes-Watson’s ashes it held in the crook of his arm, as John held Sherlock. One arm of the alpha rested around the omega, one hand rested atop Sherlock’s hand on the urn. It would be their last time to hold her in their arms.

_The way they will soon cradle their pups._

The officiant waited patiently as the fathers took their final moments before handing her over to be set in her place with the family. Mycroft had not realized he was going to speak until he stood in front of them as he gazed upon the plaque that marked her eternal resting place.

Seren Holmes-Watson  
The Universe receives  
Another star among them

“I have never seen anything so small and so tragic in all my life. Or so loved. We have known you all of your life and none of it, little one. Yet, you have left your marque on all of our lives forever. In spite of what people like to think of me, you and I know your uncle’s eyes are not actually everywhere. Nice to know I’ll have another set looking out for both of your fathers and soon your siblings. I suspect I will need the help. Until our stars can join yours, Seren.” Mycroft then released his balloon to the heavens. A moment later, the other attendees released theirs.

A small sound was heard and Sherlock’s impassive face fell. He and John looked to each other as their hands clasped tighter together. It was only when Mycroft felt his own hand grasped that he acknowledged the pain filled utterance came from Mummy.

_Seren was her first grandchild after all._

Like everyone else, Mummy had taken the news of his brother’s pregnancy and loss with equal parts joy and sorrow.

_Soon enough it will all be joy, as the pain of this fades in the excitement for the ones to come._

They took Mummy home first after the service. The ride back to Baker Street was tense. The alpha and omega barely spoke to each other. _Hurt Omega_ and _Hurt Alpha_ nearly suffocated the three men in the car. John slowly, quietly reached his arm around Sherlock to hold him. The omega stubbornly pushed him away and shoved himself further to his side of the sedan.

“I cannot believe the two of you. You would rather hurt yourselves than give in to the need. Stop fighting each other. Sherlock, you know you want his comfort as badly as he wants to give it to you. John, you know you can force him to, yet you have not. You don’t want to speak to each other now that you actually can, fine don’t speak.”  Mycroft sighed with deep exasperation.

John flicked his eyes towards Mycroft.

* * *

 

Sherlock flicked his eyes to Mycroft, who looked at the two of them with annoyance, and then back to John.

_You wanted him to know you know. That was dangerous of you, Brother Mine._

Anger radiated from John. He visibly gritted his teeth as he breathed through them. His eyes slowly went dark.

Mycroft let loose a warning growl of his own.

“Mycroft! John…?”

_Oh God no, not here. Someone will surely die._

“Alpha?” Sherlock slowly pulled at the fingers that had clawed into the seat interior. He could not help sending out calming pheromones. He pulled John's hand up with a wad of leather and stuffing in it. Both he and his brother turned toward the sound of metal shrieking, as John's other hand had a death grip on the door. He was breathing heavy.

“Alpha, you're scaring me.”

_He's fighting his own instinct to protect himself by taking out a threat. Mycroft is a threat because he knows. He will not hurt me I carry his pups._

Sherlock removed the wad from John's clawed grip and slowly placed the alpha’s hand on his abdomen.

The response was immediate.

From John and from the pups.

_Oh!_

Sherlock had felt the little movements, none as strong as this. John immediately turned to Sherlock and placed both hands on him. He looked up at him in wonder, and then leaned toward his pups.

“Hey, in there. You know me, don't you?” He whispered reverently to his children, he looked up at Sherlock smiling, “How long have you felt them?”

“Apparently they do.” Sherlock smiled as well, “Just a couple of days now.”

“Have you felt them?” John’s eyes narrowed on the Alpha Familiar.

“No. I did not tell him. None else should feel them before their Alpha.” Sherlock placed his hand over John's.

John shifted in his seat and opened his arms. “Come here. Please?”

Sherlock saw his brother's eyes narrow and then relax.

_No, he is not forcing me, Mycroft._

“He is their sire. It is his right and I will give it to him.”

Sherlock turned and shifted until settled in the seat. It was natural to the alpha as he sat back and carefully pulled the omega completely onto his lap, wrapped an arm around his omega’s shoulders and each comfortably laid a protective hand on the just beginning to be felt swell.

Sherlock could not help it as _Alpha Comfort_ flooded him, he quietly sighed into it. 

* * *

 

 _Has John never told anyone, even Sherlock? How long has he known he could? How many other omegas has he_ commanded _? What else can he do?_

Mycroft had so many questions. He could force John to speak; he knew could, the leverage laid in the alpha’s arms. Not even he could threaten to harm his brother in that way to learn what he wanted to know. He sat back, bade his time and watched as the alpha and omega gave to each other what the heart needed even if their brains still denied themselves.

Sherlock leaned against John. Mycroft saw as his younger brother’s body relaxed into the hold. He gave a light yawn.

_When is the last time I saw you yawn, Brother Mine? These past few days have been exhausting on you._

“Taveras said you need to rest Sherlock. Today has been upsetting. Can you just close your eyes for a few minutes?” John’s eyes closed for a moment as he also relaxed in the pleasure of the hold.

“I’m fine.” Sherlock groused like a child.

“Sherlock…” John warned as a parent would to a child.

“Not sleepy.” Sherlock mumbled petulantly.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. He imagined various iterations and repetitions of those same words in the parents-to-be future.

“{ _Rest_.}” John kissed Sherlock’s temple.

Mycroft was not surprised when minutes later Sherlock’s eyes closed. He did not bother to ask questions he knew John would not answer. Nor was he surprised when John spoke a few moments later.

“As I have not had word otherwise, I assume you’ve purposely left her alive for me, Alpha Familiar and Proxy to my omega. She is mine, but I would have understood had you chosen otherwise. I thank you for the consideration. I am ready to talk to her. Not a 15 minute visit. I want to talk to her.”

As Alpha to the hurt Omega that alone gave John first rights to Mary. That she is also his wife made John's predominance over all others' desire more so. It greatly overruled Mycroft’s own desire, so he honored John's rights, but oh, how he desired!

Mycroft watched as the John’s deep blue-grey eyes went partially dark. A clawed hand gently stroked the curly hair and caressed the abdomen of the omega in his arms. The alpha then turned his head directly to the Alpha Familiar of his sleeping omega.

_John wants no misunderstanding for what he is about to say to me._

“Then you can have her.”

Mycroft did not try to hide his claws this time as he felt them unsheathe, his own eyes partially dark as he smiled in anticipation. 

He understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that is an original poem by me. I hope you like it.


	47. Vanished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha John Watson learns getting to the truth is never pure and absolutely not simple once you throw in a murderous spouse and an angry Omega Sherlock Holmes in the mix .

John had felt off all day. As though a part of him were missing. He shook it off as residual anger as he prepared to face Mary.

“She said she does not want to see you.” Greg met John at the door to his office.

“She does not want to see me?” John repeated confused.

_That can’t be right._

“That is what came up from women’s holding…” Lestrade shrugged. “Maybe she knows how upset you are and is afraid.”

“Afraid? I’ve watched her face armed guerrilla to protect her patients. She is not afraid of me.” John scoffed, “Greg, I am the one and only person, who can speak for her and she knows it. I am the alpha to the omega she hurt. I can throw her under Bronzefield where she belongs for the rest of her life or I can save her some years. She'll want to manipulate that.” John stepped close to Lestrade and lowered his voice, “Or I can rescind my gift of her to the Alpha Proxy.”

John watched as the detective inspector glanced at him. He knew Lestrade understood.

“ _Trust me_ , Lestrade; she wants to talk to me.”

The detective inspector gave a short nod as he accepted the truth of it.

“She said, and I am quoting what was said, John,  _I ain’t got nothing to say to say to him_.” Greg looked at his notes and frowned. The detective looked at the doctor who saw when the light came on.

“Since when does Mary Watson speak like that?”

Lestrade walked out of his office with John close behind him. “Sally, do me a favor and go to women’s holding. Have Mary Watson brought to Interview One.”

“I thought Mallory said she didn’t want to speak to John.” Sally looked up surprised.

“Mallory quoted Mary Watson as saying _I ain’t got nothing to say to say to him_.” Greg repeated the officer’s words. There was a pause as Sally thought.

“Mary is not the type to say _ain’t_ except sarcastically. You’re thinking Mallory misquoted her and you want a confirmation.” Sally looked to John.

“Something like that.” John stated, “I want her to tell me to my face she’d rather rot in in Bronzefield for the max amount than for me to help her even a little.”

“You still want to help her?” Sally asked surprised.

"She's my wife." John simply smiled at Donovan who visibly shuddered.

_No. I still want to kill her for her part in killing my daughter, but Mycroft deserves his shot, the omega is his brother._

 “I want to know why she… I don’t know.” Rubbed his hand over his face roughly.

_I want to know why me? I know why she hurt Sherlock. What did I do that she chose to lie to me in the first place?_

“On it.” Sally stood and headed out.

“Let's go to Interview One. Sally will bring her up or we are going to hear word off one hell of a bitch fight.” Greg led the way to the room, “How's he holding up?”

John gratefully accepted the change of subject. He knew Greg really did care. “He's as good as can be expected. It’s a lot for him. He has always kept his feelings close to his chest…it’s confusing for him deciphering what are his true feelings versus hormones. Neither one of us expected to be fathers Greg. He has had three months to accept the first part of all this. I am still a little shell shocked from learning I'm going to be a father to then to lose a daughter. And…”

John shrugged helplessly.

 

> Back at Baker Street after the service, John made tea for the both of them and sat on the sofa. Sherlock looked annoyed, but he did not put up any protest when John opened his arms. Neither were in the mood for words. The alpha pulled the omega down onto the sofa and held him. He gently ran his hands along Sherlock's abdomen and sent calm and comfort as Sherlock rested on his own. It lasted all of a little over an hour before boredom set in. John had felt the agitation building within Sherlock and let him up without protest. Nothing was said as John put on his coat to leave and Sherlock went into the kitchen to work on the microscope. He was halfway down the seventeen steps when Sherlock called his name.
> 
> "You are their father, you need time with them - I know." Sherlock met him on the steps, stopping at the step just above him. "I... I will not go back in that house where there is so much of her, but I will not deny our pups your scent, your touch, your presence. They need you."
> 
> "Only them, Sherlock?" John asked quietly. 
> 
> Sherlock said nothing as John placed his hands on the omega's hips. John gently tugged Sherlock's shirt out of his trousers and placed a long kiss directly on the omega's abdomen. He sighed as he felt the conflict within Sherlock and looked up at him.
> 
> "Yes, I am still angry with you." Sherlock admitted, "But no, it's not only them." 
> 
> With that he tuned and went back up the stairs and closed the door. John was not surprised at all when Mrs. Hudson'r door opened as he reached up his hand to knock.
> 
> "Don't worry. I'll give him an hour to putter around and then I'll make sure he and the twins eat something. I don't know what happened between you two, but I am glad you're back, dear." The woman already had a bag of goodies in her hand for John.
> 
> "Thank you, Mrs. H." John beamed, "You are amazing."
> 
> "And don't you forget it!" She smiled and closed the door. He was halfway to the front door when he heard a decidedly masculine chuckle, that most certainly was not Sherlock's, immediately followed by her giggle. 
> 
> John hurried out of 221b, a look of astonishment on his face.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  Art:  _sweetlittlekitty_ \- [DeviantArt](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/intermediary/f/2f8337f7-f55e-4685-a9e2-cf46f0c9ae87/d7gfwhr-f6a4cfaf-bb99-4f94-a9df-4854c4c3a26f.jpg)

Talking to Lestrade about his omega reminded him that he had not felt anything from Sherlock almost all day. He knew an omega, like an alpha, could shield their emotions for short periods. Then there is Sherlock. John cannot sense Sherlock when the omega is in his mind palace. Combine being still angry with him and being in his mind palace John had no idea how long he could be out of contact with Sherlock.

_Still, it does not feel right._

John sank into a seat. Concern for his omega, instinct responding to Sherlock's needs, his own work, he has not had time to really sit and absorb it all. He rubbed a hand over his face and looked up at the detective inspector. “Greg, you and I haven't had the chance to speak one-to-one. I saw your face as you released me from being alphastrained. I've seen that...fear before. Alphas have the blessing of blacking out when dropped to core or going feral, so we don’t know how bad until after the fact. You know I saw the video. I know you were an eyewitness. Seeing a feral alpha that is a friend is… hard. Are you and I okay?”

Lestrade sat back in the chair and considered the man in front of him.

“I'm not going to lie, Watson. I had said to Mycroft I thought I was scared of you at the coffee place; now, I have a whole new… I don't want to say fear, that's not accurate. I have a grudging respect, maybe?  Let's just say, I am damned glad you and I are friends.” Greg admitted. “That's not to say if you ever go feral around me again I'm not going to tranq first - ask questions later. But yes, you and I are okay.”

“Understood.” John let out the breath he held. Lestrade was someone he respected and considered a friend. He did not realize how much the silver haired cop's opinion mattered, until it mattered. “Thank you, Greg. You have truly seen the worst of me twice.”

“And both times because of that damned omega of yours bringing out the worst in you.” Greg sniffed, John gave a half smile himself in agreement. “The AO Magistrates have reviewed the hospitable footage. It was ruled Justified Protection. An alpha in protection of his unborn pack from harm. Your loss, terrible as it is, helped clear you. In Crown Court it would be a Loss of Control Defense at best, in which you might have served some small time, but we both know it will never come to Crown Court. There was no love lost between Simone and Franklyn Dennison. Simone Dennison came out of her severance within a week. Rumor has it - after observance of the appropriate mourning period, of course - the cunning omega will become Simone Zhoa in a few months and she is bringing her male omega Rolando with her. So, this will not get to trial if you wondered.”

With Simone Dennison about to marry Lei Zhao, an alpha from an elite pack family of his own, she gets to live in the comfort to which she’s accustomed, and Rolando stays protected once Zhao bonds them both. She was rich on her own, has increased her financial worth being Dennison’s widow and was about to become wealthier. Her life was set, coming after John would gain her nothing.

_The cunning omega, indeed._

Alpha Omega law versus Crown Law is something that is taught to alphas and omegas within the first few years of expressing and not always for defensive purposes. Yes, John knew it was justified under AO law, but he glad for the confirmation regarding Crown Law.  The alpha nodded in acceptance of the news.

“So, Ryan said Sherlock _called_ you...?"

Something in the way Greg phrased it, gave him pause.

John raised a brow “Is this for the record Detective Inspector Lestrade?”

Greg winced at the formality and looked around the room sheepishly “I am a cop, and we are in here, but no, not at the moment.”

_No, not at the moment. Gotcha._

John had no idea what Ryan and Mr. Powell reported and did not want to give away anything when even he and Sherlock have not talked about what has happened yet. “One moment Ryan, a patient and I were outside his office and then I am on the phone with Sherlock. I know I heard Sherlock's scream in harmonics in the hall.  The next I'm alphastrained. Like you know, we black out.”

Greg nodded and was about to say something else when his mobile rang. “Yeah Sal wha… WHAT‽... How?... Bring her up.”

John turned to the detective inspector who looked to him aghast as he disconnected. “John… I… Oh shite!”

_What did she do?_

“Lestrade… where is Mary?”  John looked at the man warily. Greg looked up as if just having remembered the doctor was in the room.

“It appears Mary Watson has escaped. Another woman has been here in her place. Donovan is bringing the impostor up now.”

“Escaped‽”

“FUCK!” Greg put the mobile down and ran both hands through his hair. He opened his mobile, pressed a speed dial number, and put it on speaker. John saw the number dialed.

_Oh, shite just got real._

“Detecti…”

Lestrade spewed out a bunch of letters and numbers that cut off Mycroft’s voice. It took John a moment to realize it was code.

John stared at the detective inspector then he understood.

_There is a situation. I’m here at NSY, Sherlock's is unknown. Mary’s are unknown. He’s getting more info now._

Considering Sherlock’s career and peerage, kidnapping was always a possibility. So, it was not a surprise to realize Greg and Mycroft had prepared codes for the event if he disappeared. That he and Mary had been included was a surprise.

“One moment.” muffled sounds came through the speaker. John realized Mycroft had put his hand over the speaker as he gave someone, likely Anthea, instructions.

“On our way, will pick up my brother from Baker Street. Have answers.” Mycroft’s infuriating calm voice held just a hint of alpha rumble as the call disconnected.

“I know he has to physically check, but I don’t think my omega is at Baker Street.” John spoke up.

“What makes you say that?” Lestrade asked.

“I’ve been feeling off all day. I thought it was coming here to see Mary throwing me off, but I can’t feel him. He may be just shutting me out on purpose, but now that I’m really thinking about it my gut feeling says no. He’s…gone?” John shrugged helpless to explain it.

“We’ll figure it out when Mycroft gets here. In the meantime, since it is no longer Mary we are bringing up, I have to take you to go sit in my office while we sort this out.” Lestrade stood.

As they walked back to his office. Greg called Sally to hold the prisoner in the interview room until and they would question her together once Mycroft arrived.

“Mycroft’s going to be in on the interview?” John asked.

“No, you and he will be monitoring it from observation next door. I will have an ear piece so questions can be asked. You’re not a cop or a suspect. I can’t leave you alone in the interview or observation rooms. Right now, I desperately need paracetamol so we’re going back to my office until Mycroft gets here.” 

John nodded as he tried to sense his omega again, to no avail. He will have to wait until he came in with Mycroft.

_This is not how I wanted to speak with you, to see you, my omega, but so be it._

They entered Lestrade’s office just as John’s mobile pinged.

_Mycroft. Sherlock’s not there._

He put it on speakerphone. “Where…”

“Sherlock is not a Baker Street. When was the last time you were in contact with him?” The iceman began without preamble.

“A little over six hours ago, now. I felt him early this morning when I woke up, but by the time I got to surgery around 8 this morning I realized I felt – nothing.” John answered trying to sense his omega. “There is nothing but a sense of blank.”

John knows Sherlock is alive, he feels the omega’s existence, but nothing else from him or their pups. As their sire, he had an overall sense of their existence separate from the omega, but it is a muted feeling in comparison. In another month, he would have sense of them as individuals. He should be able to scent their primary sex. He would not know their secondary genders, if any, until they are born.

“He turned off his chip? Again?” Greg rolled his eyes at himself, realizing the stupid question.

Both Holmes brothers knew how to deactivate the location chips in the middle of their spine when either wanted to disappear. However, the agreement was for one to tell the other in case of an emergency.

Like now.

“Boss, we have a situation in Interview One.” A squad room cop came to Lestrade’s door.

“What situation? Sally’s should be there about to interview with a prisoner.” Lestrade tossed to pills into his mouth and washed it down with the coffee from his desk.

“That might be a problem. The prisoner is dead.”

“ _WHAT‽_ ”

* * *

 

“Her glasses. She had cyanide in the arm of her _glasses?_ I thought that was some stupid spy movie myth.” Sally sat with the heel of her palms pressed into her eyes.

“Definitely. Sodium cyanide.” Watson sighed as he remembered the slight sickly almond scent from her lips as he replaced the cloth that covered the body of the late Vera Hylton.

Donovan had gone to women’s holding to retrieve Mary Watson and found a near doppelganger who answered to the name instead. She brought the woman to Interview One. Hylton rested her head on her arms and refused to speak to anyone. No one noticed as she chewed on the end of her glasses. Once Donovan saw her convulsing it was far too late.

Hylton’s passing resemblance to Mary Watson also included a degree in nursing. That is where it began and ended. Fingerprinting gave them Hylton’s true identification and a rap sheet full of misdemeanors until four years ago. She suddenly had a steady influx of money from unknown sources and had cleaned up her act.

“Stop beating yourself up Sal. Lt. Odessa chews on the arm of his glasses all the time. It was not something we would think to look for – before now.” Lestrade grimaced, his own frustration showing, “Let’s just move on.”

A group sat around a monitor reviewing security footage as they tried to discern when the switch was made.

“Stop. There.” Sally pointed at the monitor “It begins here…at 15:50 then ends at 14:08. The other segment picks up at 14:09 and ends at 14:19. Then 14:20 through 14:41 and so on…”

Lestrade had spotted the first anomaly in the footage. John spotted two others. Donovan spotted the pattern that formed.

“So, a brawl was started in women’s holding. One female inmate, was slashed across the face with a stiletto heel, another had a pen that no one knows where it came from jabbed in her throat. Both get taken to medical via PTU. And somehow in the confusion, Mary Watson slipped out and Vera Hylton slipped in. Now let’s toss in the recordings in the corridors that should have tracked her escape are nothing but a series of timed loops from the day before. Loops that cover a nearly an hour of time where she could have popped off to anywhere. The two cops normally on duty in security for those recordings were food poisoned and the cops who called in to replace them were decoys. She was there for days impersonating Watson and no one knew different. And as if we’re not already having enough fun when you bring Hylton up for questioning she bites a cyanide in our presence.” Lestrade followed the summary with a few swear words.

“Does that just about cover how bloody convenient every piece of that shite was?” Donovan groused. “They used decoy officers; odds are the real officers are dead. The one witness commits fucking suicide right in front of me. This inside access is… worrisome.”

Lestrade shot her a look.

“Someone got her out.” Sally said matter of fact. “Your wife clearly has friends you don’t know about.”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Donovan.” John warned.

“Friends with some considerable resources.”

“I said don’t.” John’s voice carried an edge to it.

“I don't care about a thing right now other than locating my pack." John paused as a thought occurred to him "And I am a bloody idiot.”

“I wish I could gainsay, but I suspect what is next about to fall from your lips may in fact give it veracity.” Mycroft entered Lestrade’s office.

“I am so not in the mood for your shite, Mycroft. You have cameras all over London, have you tracked him to the airports yet?” John narrowed his eyes at the man.

Mycroft stopped mid-step. John could see when the answer coalesced in the genius' brain. “I'll be damned. Is my brother out of his mind?”

“You can ask him after I have throttled him.” John sniffed.

“Would someone like to explain it to me?” Lestrade held the bridge of his nose.

“John can't feel Sherlock because he's too far away physically.” Mycroft explained.

Depending on the strength of the bond, an alpha can track their omega over hundreds of kilometers, even an omega driving in a car. Enough to know their omega’s general location or the direction headed. This is the first time John has not felt Sherlock at all, it finally registered why. 

“I felt him at 7:30am, lost him within the hour. How can he disappear that fast?” the former army captain turned to the detective inspector.

“The idiot got on a plane.” Lestrade sighed in frustration, as he understood at last.

“Where the hell has your insane omega gone?” Sally asked.

John groaned as he and Mycroft looked at each other and answered simultaneously.

“South America.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll let myself out now...


	48. In Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omegas Sherlock Holmes flies out South America and meets an interesting travel companion.

After months of research Sherlock had hit a wall.

Literally.

He punched the living room wall in frustration.

Science wise, he has had read every report. Viewed every photograph. Checked every analysis in his possession. After the files received from Mycroft, new information had trickled off to nothing. As much as it galled him, he knew he had exhausted his scientific route for the moment. He had to go the folklore route. All clues science and otherwise led to South America. No matter which way he looked everything led back there. When the London Library informed him, there were ancient text in Lima, arrangements were made for him to view the texts at Lima’s Biblioteca Nacional and the Museo de la Nación. Each had artifacts that traced the history of ancient Alpha Omega civilization, none that can be shipped for mere perusal due to the delicate material. Sherlock did not think twice about it as he booked the first flight out.

He had a surprisingly pleasant flight. Part was spent solving a couple of cold cases for Lestrade with good leads on another three. He wanted to check the data once more before he gave it back. Part was catching a couple of hours of sleep; part was spent in intriguing conversation with Gus, an importer-exporter of fine wares.

Sherlock knew that was not all the man did.

  * Educated – Eton or Oxford.
  * Tries to hide education.
  * Former military.
  * Still handles weapons on a regular basis. Fired a weapon very recently.
  * Sniper rifles? Also hand guns.
  * Watch is a garrote.
  * Suit – Italian cut. Designed to hide weapons. Bespoke. Wears it well.
  * Shamed five times, hides two of them.
  * Knows enough about import-exports to hold a detailed conversation as a cover.
  * He cringes a little each time I call him Gus, but that is how he introduced himself.



_I introduced myself by my true first name. I know the feeling._

A pretty brunette beta had eyed the alpha as she passed through. Sherlock watched the eye-sex between the two as he and Gus spoke. There was something faint yet familiar in the man’s scent that made Sherlock store it in the back of his mind palace for perusal another time.

“So, Gus, before you became a respectable importer-exporter, you had trouble with omegas. Should I be leery?” Sherlock eyes narrowed on the alpha as he sipped his club soda, clearly anything but leery of him.

“Excuse me?” Gus’ brows frowned slightly, his lowball glass of scotch neat, paused mid-rise to his lips, then lowered back to the table top.

 is“Those two were given by someone left-handed. Someone shorter than you. I’d say you were in your early twenties when you got them. The third a little older, perhaps in your teens.” Sherlock casually indicated the marques, “I cannot tell the ages of the other two, it’s a good surgeon, a very good one, but cosmetic surgery nonetheless.”

The tall alpha eyed him warily, even as he smiled.

_Well that’s a “Back off!” if I ever sensed one._

“I see.” Gus raised the glass again and took a sip, his voice careful. “Let’s just say, years ago, I… was not a good person, Will. Not that I am so good now, mind you, just much less of what I was when I earned these. Showing all five of my shames seemed overkill. I leave these three as reminders of what an arse I once was and to not be that arse ever again.”

_He’s lying. He could not care less about being good. He likes being thought of as dangerous._

“You’re very observant of people.” Gus slowly ran a tongue just inside his upper lip as the brunette passed through again. Sherlock nearly snorted out loud at the blatant move. Gus caught it anyway. “Too much?”

“I think were you and I not conversing she’d be in your sleeper.” Sherlock smirked, “Not. Sleeping.”

“Might as well.” Gus sighed as his eyes travelled up and down Sherlock’s body. “Going by that bracelet you wear. I suppose I’d have a better shot with her.”

“Actually, you’d have a better shot and likely a better time with her brother seated across from her. She’s been vetting you for him.” Sherlock raised his wrist with the gold bracelet, “You have _no_ shot with me, Gus.”

Gus’ dangerous smile was a direct challenge to the statement. Sherlock suspected how Gus acquired at least one of his marques.

Gus threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough, Will. Beautiful bracelet. Lucky alpha. We have several hours left on this tank – tell me about them...”

Sherlock went to his usual parlor trick deducing those around them. It always amused people to see lives exposed, as long as it was not their own lives.

Sherlock went to use the washroom a while later and then walked the aisles to stretch his legs. On his return, he was not in the least surprised to find Gus reclined in his sleeper, blanket over his lap. Not. Sleeping. Sherlock and the brunette woman shared a knowing look at the empty seat across from her.

Gus merely grinned at Sherlock lecherously, one hand in his lap that caressed the sizable lump under the blanket that gently bobbed up and down.

_I told you he was a contortionist._

Sherlock merely pulled out his earbuds and lap top and went back to work.

<><><> 

“You’re a cold fish William, and yet you’re – I can’t say fun, so let’s go with…interesting. A pleasantness for what would have been a most boring flight.” Gus smiled, as they reached for their respective carry-on.

“Well, you most certainly bored _someone_.” Sherlock sniffed acerbically.

“You are the mouthiest omega I have ever met, Will. Got you hit a lot growing up, didn’t it?” Gus laughed.

“If it did, you can see how well it took. Goodbye, Gus.” Sherlock plastered a grin on his face.

“Okaaaaay. Not touching that.” Gus raised a brow sensing the sore nerve. “See. You. Later.”

“No. You won’t. Pleasure.” Sherlock turned and exited the plane. They parted ways at the bottom of the mobile ramp on the tarmac as Gus had items in cargo.

Once finished with immigration he started towards the exits to find his driver. Sherlock stopped as he found himself looking off in the distance. It was a feeling of the familiar.

_The mountains. Andes._

“Some stay forever, some leave forever, some forget forever, but when they are close enough to feel it, all children find their way home.” An old woman seemingly appeared in front of him. She about was half his height, dressed in the colorful traditional costume of the country that complemented her warm complexion, yet he knew she was not a vendor. Sherlock fought the urge that wanted to hug the old woman.

_Sage. Mother. Hoar._

Sherlock shook his head as he dislodged the odd flight of fancy his mind had taken.

“Congratulations, my child.” There was something familiar about the woman, but it was something he could not place. She had a scent, but unlike any he could directly identify.

_She knows. She knows what I am and that I am pregnant._

“How?” he asked.

“Your blood.” Her warm voice made him smile before he caught himself. She smiled, amused at his reaction. “We old ones can sense these things long before you young ones go to your doctors.”

“My blood?”

“Yes, kind knows kind, child. I scent you, your alpha and your…” She stopped, sniffed and looked up at Sherlock a slight pain etched in her face, “Oh, I am so sorry. I pray your alpha extracted due justice for your loss.”

Sherlock stepped back from the old woman. He was not entirely surprised, but taken aback nonetheless. Even so, he found himself relaxed around her.

_Oh, she is one of us. I have never encountered a scent like hers before. Is she alpha or omega?_

Though he was there in the midst of John’s attack, he had curled into fetal position and screamed in pain from the severance of Seren. He remembered that John had appeared, but remembered nothing else as he had slipped into unconsciousness soon after. Like John, he had asked for and watched the video. He was stunned by the sight of his alpha’s feral vengeance. He saw when his alpha realized he was losing his fight with the tranquilizers and was warmed by how his alpha had stayed aware long enough to shield Sherlock with his own body in protection. As he had watched his alpha tear his attacker apart Sherlock was shocked to find he had become erect.

As erect as he nearly became again at the thought of his alpha’s slaughter. He had partially smiled before he rapidly shut the thought down.

_What is wrong with me?_

“In the very ancient days, if the omega was present at the slaughter, an alpha would mate their omega in the blood and gore of the newly vanquished. It is told the phrase _bathed in the blood of my enemies_ was first uttered by an alpha. Your response says you know he can and will protect you at all costs.” She smiled knowingly, “Be not ashamed of your natural desires and instincts, we are primal creatures. Some urges transcend through time and remain with us. Especially in we core children. I miss when we were freer to be our true selves. Welcome child. Your blood is strong. You are home.”   

She seemed lost in fond memories for a moment as she looked out at distant horizons. Sherlock found himself looking out in the distance also.

_What is out there that calls to me so?_

When he looked down again the old woman was gone. Sherlock looked around, but did not see her anywhere. He shook his head dismissing her as he exited the area.

It was with great amusement, and grateful thanks to tinted windows, that Sherlock observed a Jeep as it passed his sedan. A jeep that was not regularly driven on city streets, from the amount of mud and grime on it. A Jeep that had Gus riding with one foot up on the dash board, as he holstered a Glock and a Sig Sauer under his suit jacket. He laughed with the driver of his Jeep as he looked over his shoulder at a second Jeep that carried a wood crate, before they veered off.

_Riding shot gun – how appropriate._

It was only after he checked-in his hotel; Sherlock realized he had told no one he was gone. He only planned a two-day stay, more than enough to look at the documents he wanted and then return to London. Still…

_No one will miss me for a couple of days._

_I’ll be on my way back by the time they realize I am not there._

_If they realize._

To say his alpha and alpha proxy would be less than pleased when they found out would be an understatement.

_I am here now. I will deal with that bridge should I have to cross it._

He had been to Peru before. A couple of times for cases, once to visit Machu Picchu. He has seen the Andes before, but for some reason he seemed unusually drawn to the mountains in the distance with an odd sense of longing when his driver left the airport. He did not realize he had reached out until he felt the cool panes of the hotel window beneath his fingertips. It shook him out of his reverie.

He had felt the same odd longing when he spoke with the old woman at the airport. His head snapped around to the general direction of the airport from his hotel. Everything about the woman told him she had never stepped foot out of South America.

_Yet she had spoken English._

_The Queen’s English._


	49. What You’re Looking For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega Sherlock Holmes flew off another country hoping to find clues to an unsolved case. Except he didn't tell his his brother Mycroft, nor his own alpha, John Watson. Both of whom are ready to throttle him if the danger the omega does not know he has waltz into does not get to him first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: “- Assume any dialog framed by hyphens, such as this example, is spoken in Spanish. -”

“- These are not things asked for often, Senore Holmes. The documents are fragile. We bring you to the storage viewing area so that the documents are handled as little as possible to preserve them. -” Lautaro Echeverría, the library technician assigned to him handed him paper serviettes to thoroughly dry his washed hands.

“- Sr. Echeverría, please. Lord Holmes is my brother. If you must address me by a title, mister is fine. -” Sherlock repeated a lot kindlier than he felt.  

It took Sherlock a full five minutes to convince the knowledgeable man that he was well-versed in the handling of ancient documents to spare himself the mandatory speeches before being allowed to touch the items. Echeverría stood to the side and observed as Sherlock carefully reviewed the book currently on the cradle. He refrained from rolling his eyes at the wiry man who looked at him over the top of his thin framed glasses, appearing very much like the librarian he was, as he watched. Sherlock took two hands to slowly and carefully turn the pages, taking photos of any marginalia to examine details of later. He used pencil to take notes. After a while, Sherlock knew the library technician had stopped watching him with an eagle eye and had gone back to his own work in the room. Sherlock was learning a few things regarding alphas and omegas, but nothing that might have pertained to the case.

When done he placed the volume carefully back on its proper shelf. He grasped the next volume in the middle of the spine and removed it cautiously noting something was stuck between the volumes.

“- Sr. Echeverría – what is this? -” He pointed to the item. The older man’s eyes went wide in a panic as he came to his side.

“- It’s… Oh my God, it’s a scroll! Someone wedged a scroll between the volumes flattening it! –” The man was stunned. Sherlock took a picture with his mobile as the man carefully pried the ruined scroll from the cover of the next volume and removed it. It had been there so long, its crushed state imprinted in the leather of the books to which it had been stuck. Sherlock placed the volume he held back on the shelf and quickly moved the book cradle aside so the technician would have a flat surface to work.

“- Thank you, Sr. Holmes. –” Echeverría looked ready to cry, his outrage was palpable. “- No one has done research in this section in years as far as I know. My God! Who would do such a careless thing? -”

Sherlock noticed a curved detail along an edge.

_It looks a little like…_

“- Do you know this marking? -” Sherlock pointed to it.

“- Looks something like a bite mark, no? This scroll likely has information pertaining to Cahriah.  -” The man’s eyes narrowed at the design and then widened in surprise. “- If this is what I think, this scroll predates Christ. And some careless oaf folded and flattened it! Someone will have to answer for this. -”

_The design is similar to John’s birthmark. Jerry Lorimar called it Cahriah’s kiss. Wait… Did he say predates…?_

To Sherlock’s knowledge, the oldest known item that documented alpha and omega existence dated around the 3rd century. If the scroll was about Cahriah that made it older.

Much older.

_How did the historians on our side of the Pond not know of this? Idiots!_

“- I need to read what is on this. -” a nervous excitement thrummed through Sherlock.

“- Something that should be gently curved has been damaged. -” Echeverría shook his head sadly “To unfold it as is risks its cracking. I do not want to handle it unnecessarily until…-”

“- Until it has been humidified. -” Sherlock looked at the deep creases, “- How long? -”

“- It’s going to take at least three days, maybe more. These creases are really set in. -” the technician looked at the parchment worriedly.

_So much for Mycroft and John not knowing. I have to call them. I must read this, I have to stay._

“- Understood. I’ll continue to peruse through these. -” Sherlock sighed inwardly not having any other choice. He felt a gentle reminder he had others to take care of and smiled to himself. “- I am in need of a break. May I return in a couple of hours? -”

“- Of course, Sen - Mr. Holmes. -” Echeverría nodded his eyes still on the damage scroll, “- We close this section of the repository from 1300 to 1500 and close to the public at 1800, however, the archives can be open for you until 2000. Also, I should have an answer regarding the cuentista1 by your return. -”

“- Excellent. Thank you. -” Sherlock nodded, gathered his belongings and left.

_Okay you two, behave. Daddy is getting something to eat now._

<><><> 

He was at a local café when he heard his name called.

“Holmes? Sherlock Holmes? It _is_ you!”

Sherlock looked up from his notes to see a short man he did not know looking quizzically at him.

_I am on the other side of the planet, for God’s sake! How?_

“Oh sorry, sorry mate! Mark Christophe, I’m a physician from London. I recognize you from the news. You look taller on the telly. Are you here investigating a case? Are you under cover? Oh, mum’s the word. Never saw you.” Mark helped himself to a seat at Sherlock’s table.

Sherlock rolled his eyes in blatant annoyance, the oblivious man continued speaking.

“I’m on a tour here with _Médecins Sans Frontières._ Well, I’m on a bit of a holiday for the moment between tours. Actually, we have a mutual friend, Mary Watson.”

Any annoyance Sherlock felt immediately fled. Mark, still oblivious, now had Sherlock’s undivided attention.

  * _English, Surrey._
  * _Early forties._
  * _Has slight Spanish accent, has been here a while for it to affect his natural speech._
  * _Has been home in the past few years and stayed put long enough to recognize me._
  * _In need of said holiday going by the bags under his eyes._
  * _Oh! That is why he’s exhausted._
  * _Congratulations to him._



“How is the old gal? We miss her. Well, me and the missus, anyway. Mary was such an asset when she served with us. She had a way about her, you know? I can’t believe she finally settled down with a Second Mate for her and John. Great guy there, that John Watson, but you know that. Of course, you know! Oh, it’s nice to hear the mother tongue untainted by an accent again.”

Sherlock raised a brow at the doctor, as he had yet to say a word. A moment later, a sheepish smile came over Christophe as he realized it.

“Oh sorry, mate.”

_He knows Mary. This is the Mark she spoke to on the phone. By the tone of his voice, he has not seen the woman in some time, not a mere few weeks ago._

“Hello, Mr. Christophe…”

“Oh, it’s Mark, please!”

“Hello Mark. Yes, I am Sherlock Holmes. How do you do? When had you last seen my alpha?”

Mark Christophe had last seen John when he came to their site visit for a week to visit Mary. Mary went to another site two weeks after. He has not seen her since. That was nearly three years ago. The one Mary should have just returned when Sherlock became their Second Mate - she was not with them.

_So where was she all that time? And where was she those three months before she …?_

Sherlock quickly bit off that thought and returned his attention to Christophe and his new wife, Francesca, who joined them a few minutes later. Francesca was a nurse with MSF. The two had recently married and returned to Lima, a couple of days ago, from their short honeymoon and were now ready to serve again. Sherlock spent the next half-hour gleaning information from them before they left.

He immediately went to the hotel for his personal mobile and turned it on to talk to his brother. It nearly bounced to the floor from the vibrations as messages pinged in. Technically, it was the same message from two people that repeated several times. He ignored all but the last two.

SIT1: CONFIRM NOW! – MH

Where are you? Call me! – JW

_What happened?  It’s after 9pm in London. I guess I am crossing that bridge now._

He pulled out his laptop and set up Skype for both.

“Sherlock! Oh, thank God!” Mycroft answered and immediately scrutinized Sherlock’s face, deducing him.

Sherlock sensed the immediate relief in his brother. Whatever it was, it had him seriously worried.

_Something happened to John? No, I would feel it._

“You called a Situation 1 what happened? Where is Jo...?”

“Christ, Sherlock! Are you all right? Are our pups? Are you eating? Are you taking your prenatal vitamins?”  The relief in John’s voice was palpable as his image came into view, his face partially blocked as he reached out a hand to touch the screen as though Sherlock’s face could be felt through the monitor.

“I am fine Alpha. The pups are making me eat.” Sherlock could not seem to stop himself as he returned the gesture to his alpha. John’s smile was tremulous, but full of meaning as he calmed seeing him, “Yes, I've taken my multivitamins. I'm resting as we speak. We’re fine.”

“What in the bloody hell are you doing in Peru‽” Mycroft saw his location.

“WHAT‽” John exploded, the barely found calm gone.

_Thank you, Brother Mine._

“Doing research on the omega murders. I was only going to be gone a couple of days, but…”

“But NOTHING! Do you have _any_ idea…!” John thundered, then stopped and visibly took a deep breath, several of them. Mycroft’s face did not change, yet Sherlock could see approval all over it as he let John do the yelling that would normally come from him.

“Sherlock, I understand you are your own man and will not ever require my consent, but for God’s sake Sherlock, you can’t just run off like that, you can’t!” John said at last, restrained anger and exasperation written all over his face.

“I’m still a consulting detective, John. There are murders to be solved and I admit I’m accustomed to going off on my own during a case. Though I’ll not just up and leave again once the pups are born, it's still about The Work. I’m still me…still arrogant, unpleasant, rude, ignorant and…”

 “…And an utter cock.” John finished, holding the bridge of his nose. “You just don’t…never bloody mind…”

_Why does John look so…hurt? So…disappointed…in me?_

“You’ve got to come back to London immediately, Sherlock it’s not safe.” Mycroft interrupted. “Mary has escaped.”

Sherlock blinked several times as he looked between the two alphas. “How?”

John explained what happened at Scotland Yard.

Sherlock told his alpha and alpha proxy what he learned from Mark Christophe.

Mycroft reminded Sherlock - informed John - of the times Mary’s DNA was found in several South American cities. Places where people were murdered, important people. The timings all matched to when she should have been on tour with MSF. Most had not noticed Mary’s absence as the now late Vera Hylton was there in her stead for several of the tours.

“You’re telling me my… the woman I am - was married to… You’re telling me she is an assassin.” John’s voice was tight.

“We’re still getting information in now that we know about Vera Hylton and have better data on where to look. I am pulling up classified and D-Notice files, but it appears so, John.” Mycroft stated matter-of-fact. “I think she is freelance. At least she does not belong to the Crown, France, one the State’s alphabet agencies, nor Russia.”

John was visibly disturbed by the news. His face would have looked stoic to an outsider, but it was Sherlock and Mycroft who looked at him. Even through the Skype, he fooled neither and Sherlock knew John was aware of it. The doctor sighed loudly as he rubbed hands over his face in frustration.

_Nearly a decade of hiding such from him. A year from me - though to be fair I did not look that hard._

“Oh, she’s good.” Sherlock sat back thinking.

“Oh, isn’t she?” The saccharine in John’s voice was heavy. Sherlock at least had the grace to flush.

“It gets better.” Mycroft ignored them both. He looked at his laptop as it pinged and then scrolled through some information, “Mary Morstan is an alpha born Maria Isabel Paola, from a province of Carrasco.”

“Carrasco? That’s Bolivia.” John looked at Mycroft.

“Yes, it is. How’s your Quechuan?”  Mycroft raised a cool brow at John.

Sherlock looked to his alpha. Understandably,  John was NOT amused.

Mycroft explained from the information pulled, how with all of her “tours”, her first stop was always in La Paz, Bolivia. She sometimes did part of a tour with MSF as when she worked with Watson, but she always disappeared from there for a different location where Vera would take over. John reacted badly to that bit of news as he explained about their Skype calls, how it always appeared on the up and up.

“Christ! So much makes so much sense now. A couple of times she missed a contact – be a day or two late and I would start to worry, but then she’d call. A skirmish knocked out communications she would claim. She’d come home with new scars every now and then. Those things sometimes happened during the two tours I served when you’re in the type of hot zones as we were. I questioned none of it.” John ran a hand over his face and head again in frustration. 

_All the wrong things you saw, but ignored about her, now coming into sharp focus. It is unsettling._

“Watson? Can you write down for me times you remember she came home with noticeable injuries? I’d like to compare them with anything we may have. As for where she is now, Sherlock we have every reason to believe she would follow the same pattern. You are in her territory, now. You’ve got to come home.” Mycroft finished.

“I can’t. Not yet.” Sherlock shook his head and then explained about the scroll.

“Sherlock. I understand your reluctance to leave, but that is more days of you on your own than I am comfortable with; I am coming to Peru.” John said decidedly.

“John, that is not necessary. I…”

“Better be sending me your bloody location and be at the bloody airport when I arrive. Do you hear me? Do it!” John cut him off with his captain’s voice in full growl.

Even without the visual of his face through the Skype, Sherlock would have known his alpha was serious.

Mycroft said nothing, but he was definitely amused. Had John not beat him to it, Sherlock knew his brother would have said something similar.

“Yes, my alpha.”  Sherlock reached for his mobile and began to email his information to the two alphas.  

For the first time in several weeks, Sherlock felt a familiar shiver thrum through him. It took everything he had not to smile.

Mycroft’s eyebrow quirked in the knowledge of Sherlock’s reaction to his alpha, even if John himself did not notice.

“John, I can have you wheels up from Heathrow in a little over an hour. You would arrive by 9am his time. A driver will pick you up. And I’m having a driver with proper clearance assigned to you within the hour, Sherlock.”  Mycroft nodded to John, then his brother.

“Excellent, thank you, Mycroft. See you in the morning Sherlock.” John nodded to his omega, the alpha proxy and then signed off.

"I suspect he is going to take it out on the gym again."

“Brother Mine, are you a masochist, that angry or just plain careless?” Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose once he was sure John had logged out.

Sherlock sighed. “It was a two-day run, Mycroft. Who would have missed me?”

“Why would you think…?” Mycroft started off, but then stopped. The elder brother studied the younger for a micro-moment. An audible sad sigh fell from Mycroft's lips, much to Sherlock’s surprise.

“Brother mine?”

“Sherlock…I... Father and I… We each failed you. He through abject cruelty and I through unintentional negligence…” Mycroft’s voice was soft with regret.

“Mycroft… No…”

“No, listen to me… Please?” Mycroft’s implored.

_Please? He formed it in a question._

Sherlock slowly nodded.

“We… You and I have taught ourselves to bicker and fight to protect ourselves and each other from a world that would hurt us individually or use one against the other. Betimes I fear we too oft forget that the fights between us are the shield that protects us, but it is not us. At least it should not be. Yes, I’m the smart one between us, but I acknowledge that you are brilliant in your own right. Still, you are as intellectually astute as you are emotionally fragile of your own self. Though you hide it well, a part of you still waits for those of us who love you to disappoint and hurt you. The sad part is we are human, which means we will do exactly that from time to time. Even Victor had. When we inevitably do hurt and disappoint you, thus proving you right, you feel justified and deserving of that disappointment. The little boy in you that Father and I failed so miserably still feels unworthy of being loved for who you are even though the man you are now, the omega you are now, is worthy of it and so much more. Yes, it would have taken me a day or two to notice because of who we are and the games we play, but you know I would have missed you. You know I would tear heaven and hell apart to find you. You do know that I love you, Liam.”

Sherlock, whose face had been stoic through his brother’s words, nearly crumbled at the diminutive. It was one he had not been called by his brother since he was a very young child.

_Oh, Brother Mine, I do know._

“And I you, Myc.” Sherlock’s small smile was tremulous. “I do love you, Brother Mine.”

“I know.” Mycroft started to say more, but stopped. “You should know something else…”

“Yes…?”

“ _He_ missed you, Sherlock, almost immediately. He could not feel you. He was being stoic and his anger hid it, but the lack of contact had him very much off kilter all day. John knew the time, almost down to the minute, when he stopped feeling you. Judging where you are, I surmise it was likely moments after your fight took off. He thought you were shutting him out again.”

“An omega cannot block their alpha reaching out for them for no more than an hour or two at most. The hurt of denying one’s bonded alpha too long is akin to the burning touch of an unwelcome alpha.” Sherlock shook his head, “John would know that.”

“He does know. However, you forget, you are unique for a human and even more so for an omega. You know he cannot feel you when you go deep into your mind palace. And he knows you are still angry with him. Between them, your alpha has no way of knowing how long you could shut him out if you tried. Until he finally figured out that you must have taken a flight for him to lose contact that rapidly, that was all he knew.” Mycroft explained.

“He thought I was punishing him further.” Sherlock bit his lip as he began to understand, “I knew I was leaving, I was prepared for the silence.”

“He was not. One moment he felt you, minutes later he did not, but it was not a severance. This is the first time you two have been this far apart physically since bonding. He had not felt it before with you and had nothing to base the feeling on - what else was he to think, Sherlock? He is waiting for you to forgive him, John is trying to respect your right to anger, but he is as much in need of you as you are of him. It will be the two of you alone for a couple of days in Peru. Talk to, not at each other, Sherlock…” Mycroft frowned and looked aside on his screen for a moment. He then let out a long, annoyed sigh that Sherlock knew was work related, “Forgive me, Sherlock, I must take leave now to verbally eviscerate someone at Buckingham. Let me know when John has reached. Good night, brother.”  

“Have fun storming the palace. Good night, Mycroft.” Sherlock signed out.

Other than Victor and often Mummy, Mycroft had always been the one who knew how to reach out to him even when he himself did not know it was what he needed at times.

John also seemed to know. When Sherlock let him.

_Alpha._

Alphas and omegas can send and receive emotions to each other over distances when the bond is strong. As hard as he knows he and John tried not to connect, tried to keep their emotional distance, they are who they are and their bond slowly evolved. Once they mated and fully opened to each other, it surprised Sherlock to realize just how strong it was. He felt John as far away as Dumfries and knew John could feel him.  Yes, he had purposely cut John off from his feelings from time to time in his own anger and frustration over being silenced. He did not think about the time spent in his mind palace. Even blocked or in his mind palace the alpha could feel his existence, he knew they were not severed. This nothingness was different. It felt off to Sherlock and he had expected it. The loss of contact had to have been worrying to his alpha.

Sherlock had not thought of it from John’s view.

_That is the problem, Sherlock. That is his disappointment. It is not just me anymore and I have to remember this._

Until he left the UK, Sherlock had constantly felt John’s stream of care sent to him through their bond. He knew it was the alpha’s way of being there for him, without intruding on Sherlock’s insistence to be left alone.

Well, as alone as he could be carrying their pups.

Sherlock reached for the oversized Ziploc bag he had packed and opened it. It contained one of John’s jumpers. One that still had the alpha’s scent in it, which Sherlock managed to grab before Mrs. Hudson had the laundry done. He covered his abdomen with it. It was hardly as effective as John’s direct contact, but it was enough. He felt the pups move. He could not put a name to it, but their movements felt different when he scented them with John’s belongings versus when John had touched his abdomen directly.

_They will know their sire._

As reluctant as it was to admit, he needed John as well.

Not because he was pregnant, not because he is an omega.

_Because I love him._

_I miss you immensely, Alpha, it is time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Cuentista = Storyteller. A person who maintains the tradition of an oral history of Alphas and Omegas and to entertain with stories, poems, songs, etc. as a way of passing on traditions, codes of behavior, as well as social order. It is akin to the "griots" of western Africa. ^ return to paragraph ^


	50. Suddenly I See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega Sherlock Holmes realizes the genesis of what caused the rift between him and his alpha, John Watson and gives it a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last I give you what was _said_ versus what was _heard_. Tomorrow is Christmas Day, suffice it to say I will not be posting, so here you are. May everyone have a fantastic Tuesday even without a posting. For those like myself who do celebrate:
> 
> #  _Merry! Happy! Joyous!_

Sherlock called Echeverría for updates. They will open the scroll tomorrow the framework to restore it was being assembled.  Having perused much of what they have of ancient folklore, there was not much else he could do. He spent the remainder of the afternoon going over his notes.

As the sun set his new driver made contact and all was set for John's pick up in the morning. He decided to order room service and stay in.

From his hotel window, he could see the mountains in the distance. He felt that odd pull on his soul that he had felt when he landed.

_I think you will enjoy this view when you see it tomorrow, Alpha. You are airborne now. I wonder if you will feel its pull as well. I will have to ask you._

_I hear your voice as in a distant memory, John. We’re too far apart in more ways than one._

_The rich tones and pitches of your voice and suppressed laughter at crime scenes. The deep rumbles as that same voice moaned in my arms._

Sherlock gasped in the shock at the bald truth of the realization that even now, even after everything - out of sight still does not mean out of mind…

_…nor out of heart._

He felt the twins move more with his thoughts of John along with the scenting. He lays a hand on his abdomen as he sips the non-caffeinated tea he brought with him to ensure he'd have something palatable if he found the hotel tea lacking, which of course he did. Their movements were stronger now. The fluttering more solid.

 _You want Papa, I know. As do I_. 

He understands John can do something to him as Alpha that no one else can. Command was not the right word. Victor had commanded Sherlock once. He conceded to his wishes bitterly, but he had in fact conceded. Sherlock knew he could have ignored Victor. He had spoken to Mummy and other omegas who were bonded to their alphas. Except for Mummy, all had said their alpha commanded them with words. Only she described a similar sickening feeling as he, where she could not knowingly implicate her husband. His father had said nothing to her, their bond controlled her. 

Sherlock had heard and felt John's voice around and within him.

He had ignored John's subtle and not-so-subtle suggestions before. This was different. He was not able to disobey John in this one thing. He was compelled.

 _Yes, that's the word! I was compelled to obey_.

Sherlock had spent time understandably angry and hurt with John once he deduced it. He saw how upset the alpha became when he told John he knew he had been silenced. John was angry with himself. He knew John told the truth. The alpha had not realized he compelled then. It had not occurred to Sherlock before then to think of other times his Alpha compelled. Once he knew what to look for, Sherlock searched his memory.

His subconscious mind filled in the pieces he had not accessed before because he was in drop. His alpha spoke to him and had not opened his mouth. Sherlock had heard of mindspeak. The literal hearing your alpha’s true voice within your own mind, not the imagination of it.

_When you eliminate the impossible…_

Sherlock replayed the complete memory of the night John bonded him with the missing pieces filled.

[“{Omega?}”]

[“Yes, Alpha?”]

[“{ _Remember_ my blood always. You are _mine_.}”]

The alpha had no way of knowing at the time about Sherlock’s memory. John likely did not remember he had done this, he had no reason to expect his omega would remember.  

[“{ _Rest_. Just rest, my omega.}” “{ _Sleep_ if you can.}”]

Sherlock remembered that he had done exactly that. He had gone to sleep.

He realized making Sherlock go to sleep that night was the only way John was getting out of that bedroom without mating him. John had compelled him again when he and Mycroft revealed the truths about their father and he was distraught afterwards.

[“{ _Come here_ my omega.}”]

[“{ _Then rest omega. Sleep_.}”]

John purposely compelled me to rest then. He knew I was being stubborn, denying myself when he knew I wanted his comfort as alpha, but too prideful to ask him.

He came up with more, but in the end, they were all the same command.

[“{ _Now eat_.}”]

It is a bad alpha's who does not ensure their omega's well being. Sherlock could not deny if John had to compel him to sleep, to eat, then it was justified. He knew he was as bad about eating as he was about sleeping. Being pregnant had changed that, at least for the moment. Most omegas don't give their alphas any of the trouble he knows he has given John.

He realized John could have so easily forced his behavior.  Especially during the times when even Sherlock realized he went off on a tirade, careless of anyone's feelings. John would gently, but verbally correct him or outright call him out were he especially egregious, but John had never compelled his behavior. Sherlock knew he certainly had given his alpha reason enough to do so in the past year. John had never compelled him negatively. He certainly had never done so on purpose.

John would not.

_That is not who my alpha would ever be._

Sherlock was still angry, yet he could not deny the truth. Yes, John accidently silenced him, but it was also incorrect conclusions and pride on both their parts that have separated them for four months now.

Sherlock groaned as more pieces fell into place. He thought back to the evening it happened. 

> John was at surgery. After a not-so-merry criminal chase had ripped his trousers, Sherlock was at John’s house to change clothes. Sherlock was grateful that Mary, having resigned from her surgery for her impending tour, was not at the house when he entered. He had left unfinished tea in his room from the morning. He had the cup and saucer in hand at the entrance from one side of the kitchen when Mary, her arms loaded with groceries, entered from the other side.
> 
> “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” She sniped as she dropped her purse and the groceries on the counter with an exaggerated sigh of annoyance.
> 
> “I do live here.” Sherlock replied as he emptied the dregs from his tea down the sink.
> 
> “Wish you didn’t.”
> 
> “Well, look at that – something we finally both agree upon. It must be Christmas!”
> 
> “Want to give me a present? Stay at Baker Street.”
> 
> “Take it up with my alpha. He’s the one that wants me… _here_ …every night.”
> 
> His back was turned as he washed out the cup and saucer, but he heard the hitch in her breath at his insinuations.
> 
> “Oh, you wish!” she scoffed.
> 
> _Before, I would have told you no I do not wish._
> 
> _It is no longer before._
> 
> “And if I did? Wish?” Sherlock turned to her and raised a dark brow. “He’s been yours for eight years, yet you’re the one that kept displaying that beautiful body of his with your exhibitions of passion. I am an omega, biologically designed for an alpha. Moreover, I am his omega. You had to know it was only a matter of time…” He made a point of showing his bracelet. The one he has not taken off since the night first placed on his wrist. “Afraid of a little competition?”
> 
> Mary snatched groceries out of the bag with more force than necessary. Sherlock knew he was right.
> 
> “You bastard!” Mary bit her lip, “You have no idea what I’ve…I have and I will do anything, _anything_ to keep from losing him. Understand. There is nothing in this world that I would not do to stop that happening. I've put up with the likes of you for a year for him! I love him.”
> 
> “Love him? How could you possibly say you love him, Mary? You are not honest with him! If you find me so abhorrent, you should have said something from the beginning. From the start, you have smiled in my face whenever he is around, then snipe at me the moment his back turned. I am Second Mate in this house not by anyone’s desire. In the beginning it was not my place to say anything, Second Mate does not speak ill of the spouse. Yes, he and I have cast most of the rules aside, but you are his wife, his priority is always to you first. He is my alpha I followed his lead. If you did not want me here, all you had to do was tell him. You have compounded the lie all these months. He does not know you at all!”
> 
> Sherlock was done with Mary and all her lies to John.
> 
> _Alpha does not deserve this._
> 
> Sherlock understood John loved his wife. Yes, the doctor was beginning to worry he was going to lose her totally to MSF. He understood some people in love often have blind spots to the shortcomings of those they love, especially when trying to hold on to them. The clues are in the doctor’s face.
> 
> _Or are they?_
> 
> A few thoughts crystalize in his mind.
> 
> “You ensure he has dropped before you do.”
> 
> “What?” Mary stopped as she reached into another bag.
> 
> “You knew your eyes would give you away. You know you don’t remember anything once dropped to core, don’t you, Alpha?
> 
> “I don’t know what you’re…” Mary started.
> 
> “Stop lying!” Sherlock’s voice snapped out.  “You have lived with him all these years and John did not know? Oh! Oh! You went to different doctors for your fertility tests, didn’t you? What husband, even an alpha doctor is going to gainsay a beta fertility doctor’s results when it's not his specialty? John would have never questioned the results given him. Just as I had not when I read the file Mycroft gave me when we first met. Oh! Now the initial results of the blood test make sense. You are not infertile because of some congenial genetic quirk, Mary. You are infertile because you’re _Alpha_.”
> 
> It was fleeting, barely two full seconds, but it was there. Her eyes flashed black with threat.
> 
> Sherlock sneered as he pushed further.
> 
> “You lied to John. Somehow you learned he would date an omega, but not love one and he did not prefer alpha women. Your multi-vitamins are alpha suppressants and you take hormone replacements. You changed your scent. You let him believe you are a beta. It worked fine, for years, but you knew. You knew John was becoming wary. Too many years of your disappearing for months.  And in all these years, when he might have eventually forgiven you, you’ve never told him the truth. You do not want children, but you want to keep him. You want to keep him enough to put up a Second Mate. A Second Mate who could give him the pups he wanted and take care of them while you still do what you want. But because John is particular you couldn’t just pick any omega, could you? Some pretty, but vapid thing you can control would have been perfect. Instead you got me.”
> 
> “You’re right. Instead I got you.” Mary said miserably. “Everything I did, tried to do…I wasn’t supposed to love him and just when I realized did, you came along…”
> 
> Sherlock did not understand.
> 
> “What have I done to you to incur such animosity, Mary?”
> 
> “You’ve made him fall in love with you!”
> 
> “What are you talking about?  John does not love me, he can’t! Alpha cannot love Second Mate!”
> 
> “Oh Sherlock, please!”
> 
> “He does not love me.” Sherlock repeated his voice almost too low to be heard. “He's yours."
> 
> Mary's bitter laughter in response spoke volumes.
> 
> “Are you bloody kidding me? You two have broken damn near every rule under the Ancient Forms possible, you just said so! From the moment he first mentioned you to me after that accident on the highway, before he even knew your damned bloody name – you were his, Sherlock, even if he himself did not know it yet. All we wanted was one thing...”
> 
> Sherlock blinked. He knew where this was going.
> 
> “Oh, it comes to you now, does it?” Mary’s tone was satisfied, vindicated.
> 
> _Oh no._
> 
> “No.” Sherlock shook his head. “I will not.”
> 
> “You are a fertile omega, you can give us children, but you refuse.”
> 
> “Us?” Sherlock's voice was tight.
> 
> “Yes, us. John and me. He and I are alphas after all, you know the pups will be ours."
> 
> _And she’s said it._
> 
> Though infertile, most alpha females want pups. Sherlock was certain Mary was among the few alpha females who did not. He knew she only agreed to a Second Mate and wanted pups now to appease John for it was inherent in nearly all alpha males to want to sire. John is an alpha. Sherlock knew what John had gone through needlessly with Mary in that desire before he abandoned hope in it the first time. It was Mary who stoked that desire anew upon her return. Sherlock knew that John still secretly wanted pups.
> 
> He looked at the woman before him.
> 
> _I am sorry John._
> 
> “No.”
> 
> “No?” Mary repeated.
> 
> “You heard me.”
> 
> “As you said, my husband loves me. I could convince him to take you.”
> 
> Sherlock nearly laughed. Were John any other alpha, he would have believed her. He knew John was not that type of alpha. John was not a Milo DeBarron who would exercise his alpha rights in such a way. John would never rape him like that. However, Mary did not have to know he knew that much of his alpha.
> 
> “I would abort first."
> 
> “What‽” Mary gasped shocked, a hint of her true self showing.
> 
> “If by some miracle your husband sired a litter on me I would not bring them to fruition." Sherlock snarled.
> 
> “You need your alpha's permission, you can't abort!”
> 
> Sherlock knew the shock in Mary’s voice was every Alpha’s instinct to protect their own even the hypothetical.
> 
> “Oh, you forget who I am. Mrs. Watson.” Sherlock had replied coolly.
> 
> That snapped her out of her shock as she saw the truth of the statement, even if the rest was a blatant lie. Though Mycroft was one of those rare alpha males who had somehow choked down the biological imperative to procreate, even he would be appalled if Sherlock asked for such. Still, Sherlock knew if he asked, Mycroft would make the arrangements.
> 
> “Oh my God! You would. But they would be John's babies!” Mary was appalled.
> 
> Sherlock walked up to her, used his height and trapped her against the counter with his piercing gaze alone.
> 
> “I. Will. Kill. Them.” He enunciated each syllable harshly through gritted teeth.
> 
> Done with putting up the groceries and still shocked by Sherlock’s words she had blindly reached behind for her purse but misjudged her angle and the mobile fell out of the bag. She grabbed at it before it could bounce off the counter and hit the floor.
> 
> “I don’t believe you.” Her voice shook as she dropped the mobile back into her purse and slung it on her shoulder.
> 
> Sherlock smiled darkly at the tremor in her voice, he knew she believed every word.  
> 
> _Come on, give me rage. Show me._
> 
> “Again, you forget Mrs. Watson. I am the omega who threatened the life of my own alpha less than twenty-four hours after bonding if he took me without consent. Even then, John understood me enough to know the seriousness of that threat. In order for John to have pups, either you will have to leave or I die, because believe me when I say to you that I will _never_ bring a pup of mine into a world where they will call you _Mummy_.”
> 
> _And there you are Alpha._
> 
> Her eyes went black and stayed. She had dropped to feral core ready to fight him. Her eyes stayed black until Sherlock, with his own mobile at the ready, took a picture with the on flash blinding her.
> 
> The brightness of the flash had brought her out of core as fast as she went in it. She had immediately blinked to readjust. By then Sherlock had moved from the counter.
> 
> The two glared at each other.
> 
> “You have twenty-four hours to tell him or I will.”
> 
> With nothing else to say to her Sherlock left the house.

_Oh god!_

Sherlock never got the chance to tell his alpha about Mary as John had silenced him that same evening. He found out John knew the truth for himself when Molly had unwittingly told Sherlock about calling John when she teased him of cheating on her with another lab for the same results.

In his memory, he could now see that that line was active. John was already on the line listening when in Mary's hasty grab at the device to keep it from hitting the floor she had unknowingly shut it off before she dropped it in her purse again.

Sherlock groaned aloud as the final pieces clicked into place and the full picture revealed. John had heard him threaten to kill any potential pups. John would know he had the means. He would have, and had, taken the threat seriously.

| “Sherlock, it is a miracle your alpha has not outright beaten you and your damnable mouth to a pulp. You need to shut up and listen for once, speak with him!”|

Mycroft had called him the morning after he came home from the hospital. He had implored for Sherlock to speak to John, yet would not tell him why. The alpha proxy only restated that the alpha and omega needed to talk. He realized John must have told Mycroft that he heard Sherlock's threat.

 _It was not my brother’s place to tell me what John said to him and of course, I ignored him_.

John overheard me threaten to abort. He was furious, that is why he silenced me. – SH

You would have known this before now had you listened to me. You both made mistakes. Talk with your alpha in the morning. – MH

Not talk at him, Sherlock, with him. Do something novel, be silent and listen. – MH

The pups made their presence known in his agitation.

_Your Daddy and Papa are fools, little ones. We will fix this mess we have made. I promise._


	51. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega Sherlock Holmes and his alpha John Watson know they have their problems. When Sherlock unthinkingly hares off to another country, John immediately goes after his omega. Both take the time apart to reassess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Christmas may be over, but it's still the holidays and I am in a giving mood. Enjoy!

“Hey, you two.”

Sherlock knew he should feel silly speaking to the twins out loud. Goodness knows he has sneered more than enough times at gravid others who engaged in such. Then again, those people were out in the public. He was in the privacy of his hotel room.

Not that he would not have done so out on the street regardless.

He blamed it on lack of sleep. Then chuckled at himself for the thought considering how his sleep habits were before the pregnancy.

Sherlock had slept sporadically during the night. The needs of the twins in conflict with the tumult of his heart. All thoughts of the case cast aside at the thought of seeing John in a couple, yet too many, hours.

He prided himself on his objectivity, yet these first few months of his pregnancy had been anything but. Thus, he spent the night in and out of his mind palace perusing every memory. All the ways he and John had reacted in their separate truths and interpretations thereof. Some questions were not going to have proper answers until they were face-to-face, but plodded through the crux of it. In the end it was so clichéd it infuriated Sherlock, and yet so true, he had no choice but to accept it: it all boiled down to communication.

Communication, or rather the lack of, certainly played a huge part in the problems between him and his alpha.

_His alpha._

Yes, he considered John his alpha.

_I fell asleep last night wanting to kiss you. When I woke this morning; the feeling hadn’t left._

He could not pretend otherwise.

_I thought I knew love with Victor, but this? What I feel for John is immense. All-consuming. And I love it. I love him._

Having felt John’s love through the bond was one thing, and Sherlock knew that is was love he felt from the alpha. He was sure, even in his anger, he reciprocated in kind. John knew of his love.

But neither had ever actually said the words to the other.

_Did it really matter?_

One way to fine out…

“I love John. I love Alpha.” Sherlock the words out loud in the universe for the very first time.

It seemed to carry so much more weight being audible. He knew for a certainty then he had to tell John. Say the words to him.

But first he had to get to the airport.

* * *

John spent most of the flight with his mind all over the place.

There were a few precedents where one sex or gender impersonated the second gender of another. The church and Crown Court were surprisingly easiest. Mary was never a beta. She had entered into the marriage under serious false pretenses, their marriage was voided and annulled. It was in Alpha-Omega Court where things got tricky. It was still considered an Alpha-Alpha marriage subject to all the rules and laws therein, even if that was not what John signed up for. He would not have been granted a court ordered annulment until Mary had been brought to trial and convicted. That could have been months before it was resolved even if Mary were still in London. With her as a fugitive who knew?

Apparently, Mycroft Holmes.

John had to admit for all his Machiavellian ways, Frosty had cut through some serious red tape. He knew it was more for Sherlock’s sake than his, but Mycroft was getting it done.

Once he and Sherlock returned to London in a few days, his marriage to Mary was over in all but the paperwork and the heartache.

Alphas love hard.

Alphas hate harder.

In the short month that had passed since then, the happenings of the Watson household had spread among the elite. It had been over a decade since a Justified Protection was public record, but no one faulted John for Dennison’s demise, not even his widow. Mary’s part in the attack on Sherlock sealed her fate. As far was everyone else was concerned she remained alive because Watson was tranquilized before he knew and was protected from him in jail once he found out.

No one questioned what John felt.

That only left his omega.

When a spouse with a Second Mate dies, the surviving spouse is free to marry and bond again continuing the tri-pronged family dynamic. If the Second Mate is still fertile, and the erstwhile First Spouse no longer has want or need of such, he or she is back in the same predicament as any children had belong to the spouse, not the second mate. If the Second Mate is no longer fertile he or she is free to live out their lives as they wish. If asked to stay most Second Mates remain with the surviving spouse even if the spouse remarries. Future children, if any, would still belong to the First Spouses. Unsurprisingly, many Second Mates become First Spouses. However, there was no precedent on the protocol for a couple with a pregnant Second Mate and a First Spouse who was a fugitive. Thus, his marriage was in limbo.

_I am going to be a father and I have an omega whom I love. There, I admit. I said it. I love him. And for all the pain we seem to keep putting each other through, I believe he loves me as well. Yes, the loss of Seren is hard, but we should be happy now for the pups we’re having._

_So, how the bloody hell did everything get so twisted between us? And how can we get it straight?_

He had the next few days with his omega to figure it out. He was determined to.

John saw the Andes Mountains in the distance as the plane approached the airport. It was not until he felt the pull anew that he remembered he had felt something like it before when he served with _MSF_ in Bolivia.

_It feels much stronger now than I remember._

He shook off the feeling as the plane taxied into Lima. After going through immigration, he was grateful he did not have to deal with baggage claim as he slung his duffle on his shoulder.

He pinged Sherlock’s mobile a couple of times, but no response. Now that he was on terra firma he reached out for his omega.

_Worry. Annoyance. Tenderness. Hunger. Amusement._

His omega’s emotions flooded the alpha and John nearly buckled under the weight of his relief of having felt him again.

_Okay, now why are you not here to pick me up?_

John was about to pull out his mobile again when yelling children captured his attention. A little girl of no more than five or six years old ran ahead of the pack. John knew that look on her. He had seen it far too many times.

_Occasionally instilled it in others._

She was running scared from a group of little boys coming up fast behind her. All John could think was a deer hunted by wolves.

As she neared, without a thought, he scooped her up in his arms. She startled at suddenly being airborne, but realized she was being rescued and clung tight to him.

“- And what is going on here? Are these boys bothering you? -” he rested her on his hip as she bawled. The boys stopped short as they nearly collided into John.

“- She is not a girl, she… -” One of the boys gets elbowed before he finished.

One sniff and John understood.

_Female alpha. Somehow the little boys know or suspect._

“- Why were you chasing her? -” John rubbed little circles on the girl’s back to calm her.

“- Her brother said she’s bigger. We wanted to see. -” Another answered as he tried to grab her leg to pull her down.

_Christ! Does the pissing contest really begin so young‽_

“- Do not touch her! -” he commanded the boy who immediately snatched his hand back.

“- Yes, alpha! -” The eldest among them, an alpha himself, bowed his head to the senior alpha.

John bit his lip as he reminded himself they are children.

“- Where is your brother, honey? -” He asked the girl. She shook her head as she clung tighter.

“¡Rina! ¿Dónde estás, mija?” a voice like thunder rumbled darkly. The little girl’s head popped up.

“¡Abuela! ¡Abuela aquí!” The girl twisted towards the voice.

“¡Huyan, es la anciana sabia!” the boys ran in different directions.

_Ah, the girl’s grandmother. They are afraid of her._

“¿Tu abuela?” John pointed to an older woman that approached them. Rina nodded and kicked her feet to be let go. John placed her down and watched as she ran to the woman. A quick exchange happened between the two as Rina pointed to John.

As they walked to him, he understood why the boys ran. John sensed more that saw that she was old, very old and grey, yet had a youthfulness to her that belied her obvious age. There was nothing special about her, yet she was unique. He noted that the boys had called her _anciana sabia_ – old wise woman. She was likely someone spiritual. All John knew is every instinct within him said to give this woman due respect.

“You are kind. My Rina and her twin brother, Renaldo are a handful, but they are good children most of the time.” She smiled at John. Rina clung her grandmother’s skirt the way she had clung to him moments before as she shyly peeked at the alpha from behind those skirts. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Mother. Her brother needs to know how to keep a secret I think.” John smiled at old woman a sense of comfort relaxed him, “Little boys are such beasts at times.”

She looked at him and nodded sagely, “Some men are as well.”

He realized then her saying “You are kind.” had nothing to do with his temperament.

 _She knows._ _Not just that I am Alpha, but also that I have gone feral. I have scented nothing like her before._

“How?” John startled.

“Your blood is young, your line _ánimo_. You are core. Words are for man to hear. Core do not need them to say what is needed. You speak too much.” She smiled gently and nodded towards the entrance, “Your pack arrives, child. Welcome home. Thank you again for Rina. Come _mija_ , we have to go.”

_My pack? How…?_

John turned where she pointed and everything stopped as he spied a familiar tall dark curly head that scanned the crowd.

{Sherlock!}

The detective’s head whipped in his direction.

John’s heart skipped several beats when Sherlock’s entire being changed at the sight of John. The absolute joy, the excitement of seeing the alpha evident. 

John turned to say his goodbyes to the old woman and the little girl, but they were gone, blended in with the crowd. When he turned back, Sherlock was almost before him.

The smell of citrus and musk and warmth and Sherlock filled his nostrils. John craved to just inhale the omega’s scent and _breathe_. He did not think about it, just threw his arms around his omega.  

“Oh God, Sherlock.” His grasp was desperate as took his fill of the omega’s scent.

_Yes!_

Sherlock’s head fell onto the doctor’s neck, his forehead nuzzled in against the doctor’s jaw as Sherlock’s arms snaked around him in an equally tight hold.

“{Alpha!}”

_Crowded airport be damned._

John kissed him desperately. Sherlock kissed him back just as desperate. Tongues visibly slid against each other in the dark caverns of their mouths. The doctor’s hands slid down Sherlock’s back to rest on his hips, slowly pulled Sherlock closer against him.

The two simply held each other.

“I’m so sorry, Sherlock. I am.” 

[ "Core do not need them to say what is needed." ]

John heard the wise woman’s words in his head clearly.

“John…” Sherlock lifted his head, started to speak.

“Hush, Sherlock.” John caressed his face.

“But I….”

“I said, _hush_. We think too much, say what’s on the top of our minds, not what is in our hearts. It gets us into trouble. We need to be silent and listen to what is not said.”

He smiled as Sherlock quirked a confused brow.

John took Sherlock’s dominant hand and placed it open over Sherlock’s own heart.

_Feel your heart, omega._

He then wrapped his non-dominant hand under Sherlock’s and wrapped his dominant hand over all as he guided the wrapped hand to rest on own his heart. He removed his non-dominant hand and pressed Sherlock’s hand to his heart.

_Feel your heart in my mine._

Sherlock’s breath hitched as the omega understood what was happening. John took his dominant from over Sherlock’s hand, laid it flat on Sherlock’s heart and left it there.

_As I feel mine in yours._

Sherlock took John’s left hand in his right, kissed John’s fingers and then slid it to his abdomen with his right hand over it.

_Alpha, feel that which you have sired. This omega bears your pack._

It was John’s breath then that hitched as he felt his pups move under their joined hands. Sherlock then slid his own hand to the opposite side of his abdomen away from John’s.

They both gasped as the movement somehow shifted in a way the fathers understood the twins had followed Sherlock’s touch then went back to John’s and stayed. The alpha felt the gentle pushes against his hand. John looked at his omega in wonder.

_They know me‽_

“Yes, they know you, John. Even when I was not with you, I made sure they know their sire.”

John closed his eyes and laid both hands on Sherlock abdomen a moment. Both men smiled as the pups calmed. 

“Let's get out of here.” John grabbed his omega's hand and headed for the exit.

 

John and Sherlock by br0-Harry (DeviantArt)


	52. Lucidity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally together with no distractions, Omega Sherlock Holmes and Alpha John Watson get some things settled between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Muse and I have taken you lovely readers through some loops and it's been sedate these past couple of chapters, but as they say in another fandom _dinna fash_. There is more mayhem to come before this tale is through. From the completed chapters already in queue, to the ones that are barely fleshed out ideas, I think you'll be happy to know this story will definitely go past the one year mark in March. 
> 
> So whether you've been with me since Chapter 1 or picked this up along the way and binged; to you commenters and you readers only alike...may 2019 bring you all the splendid joy, harrowing angst, uproarious glee, tenderest love and of course the filthiest smut - however you like it - in this little haven we call AO3.
> 
> #  _HAPPY NEW YEAR!_
> 
> (Fluff and Smut ahead - but you knew this.)

On the ride to the hotel, John and Sherlock discussed some of the folklore Sherlock had learned thus far. John did not ask; he simply pulled Sherlock next to him and held his omega the entire ride. Sherlock did not in the least resist.

Once inside the room John slammed the door behind them with force. The sound reverberated and surely a weaker door would have come off its hinges.

Sherlock turned, surprised by the force of his alpha’s entry as John locked the door, tossed his carry-on to a nearby chair and then grasped Sherlock's waist.

Sherlock pale eyes glittered, trapped in the ferocity of the alpha’s dark eyes - fear and desire a heady mix.

“John, I…” Sherlock started to speak.

“Shut up!” John said not so quietly.

“But John I…” Sherlock gently pushed John alpha against the door.

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes will you please Shut. The. Fuck. Up. when I’m trying to tell you I LOVE YOU!” John yelled.

“That’s what I am trying to say to you, but you keep interrupting _me_!” Sherlock yelled back.

The two glared at each other and then burst into laughter.

Sherlock quirked a brow and the moment he started to open his mouth to speak, John shoved his tongue in it.

John poured everything into it as his tongue explored the younger's man mouth, felt over every single bit of that beautiful mouth he hasn't been able to explore since their last time together.

Their first time together.

_Now, listen my omega._

He did not give the detective a chance to think. John's lips find the bond bite on Sherlock's neck almost instantly, and he ran his teeth over it, licked it and sucked on it until Sherlock sighed. 

He sent all his want, all his desire, all his need and above all his love for Sherlock until the omega was near breathless only able to barely breathe his alpha's name.

John felt luxuriant in undeniable joy felt as what he sent to his omega was reciprocated in kind. 

_The old woman is right, sometimes words are not needed._

John stopped long enough to ask one important question.

“Do you know if this room is alpha rated?” He held Sherlock in a forceful grip.

Alphas and omegas have learned over the years to be careful in establishments not up to the stress their kind can put on furnishings. After an especially amorous night many have found the expense of, what for most betas would be sturdy furnishings, added to their bills. In time knowledgeable places have learned to have rooms that can bear it and carry an AO rating.

His omega’s dirty grin was all the response John needed.

Sherlock had a split-second’s warning. John’s blue eyes shifted in wickedness before he very deliberately moved his hands at alpha speed and ripped Sherlock’s shirt and undershirt wide open.

Buttons scattered and Sherlock pulled back, snarled and returned the favor before John smashed their mouths back together. Their bodies pressed hard against one another. John could feel the heat of Sherlock’s bare chest on his own where their shirts hung open. John found the hem of Sherlock’s ripped shirt and pulled it out of the omega’s trousers as he turned and began to walk backwards through the room. John shrugged out of his own ripped shirt and then groaned as his back hit a door that trapped him between it and Sherlock’s half naked body.

John needed more of him.

John’s fingers brushed the waistband of Sherlock’s trousers and paused in warning. Sherlock quickly unbuttoned and jerked the zipper down as he nuzzled at John’s neck. Sherlock rapidly removed his shoes and what remained of his clothes until he was nude and kicked them away. He pulled off John’s belt and pushed the alpha’s trousers to the floor before he leaned his full weight against John. John growled as Sherlock’s slick scented the air.

Sherlock groaned into John's mouth.

“{Staaaaay.}”

John blinked and Sherlock purred.

Sherlock knew the alpha could feel how hard he was and felt John’s erection swelling against his leg.

“Since our first time. I have wanted to do this, to see you and touch you like this, Alpha.”

He trailed his lips down John’s chest as he sank in front of him, his hands gripped John almost painfully by the hips. John gripped the door frame as he looked down to see Sherlock gaze up at him as he helped him step out of his shoes, socks and trousers, the omega’s expression more devoted than John had yet to see and it caught him off guard. John smiled tenderly and caressed his face. Sherlock flushed at this, the truth of his love for the alpha showing and they both knew it.

Sherlock ran his tongue along John’s cock through his pants and the length of him that stretch beyond the confines of the elastic that had no chance of restraining him, slurping the pre-come before Sherlock removed the pants as well. Sherlock grasped John’s cock and took him into his mouth. John’s back arched and his mouth fell open in a loud filthy moan as he was treated to the sight of the stretch of his omega’s mouth as he took the head of him down. Given John’s size, little more than the head was all that could fit, but what the talented omega could do with what did fit…

“Oh God…Sh…Sherlock!”

John’s head slammed into the door.

No one had ever made him feel anything like this…this was heaven. John could feel his muscles twitching and winding tighter as Sherlock devoured him, dark pools of heat formed deep in his belly.

He needed more.

John grabbed Sherlock’s hair and pulled him to standing. The alpha’s strong hands cupped the omega’s firm arse as he hauled him up and then turned them around and used the door as leverage. John’s arm was at Sherlock’s waist as he hoisted the omega up and then held him at the right height. Sherlock gasped as John’s swelling erection slid along the crevice of his arse cheeks.

John claimed his omega’s lips, using the omega’s natural lubrication to slick his cock. John squatted slightly and then slid into Sherlock in one long brutal stroke until he was buried to the hilt.

Sherlock hissed as John pulled almost fully out.

And yet John needed more.

John’s tilted his body back.

“Don’t worry I will not let you fall.”

“I know.”

He watched as the tiniest hint of color of Sherlock’s irises at the sight of the alpha’s wicked grin as he removed his hands entirely from Sherlock’s body.

Sherlock cried out as his full weight brought him down on John’s cock in a glorious slide.

“Alpha!”

Sherlock closed his eyes and shuddered in pleasure - the alpha felt huge in him. Only the door behind Sherlock kept him from falling.

His hands slid under Sherlock’s arse, John pulled himself forward, brought their faces closer together. John’s lips on Sherlock’s as he kissed and sucked, his tongue took a slow exploration of the genius’ mouth. He gave a small laugh as his omega whined when he slowed his hips to an erotic roll in and a decadent roll out. Sherlock’s body thrummed in the purr as John nuzzled his neck at the bond bite.

“More John! Oh, please more!”

“Ask nicely.” John teased as he leaned away.

Trapped against the door and impaled on his alpha’s cock Sherlock’s eyes flew open wide desperate for him, barely a centimeter of his gorgeous irises visible.

“Oh, you want me to ask?” Sherlock snarled between gritted teeth, “And _nicely_ at that?”

“Mmm hmm.” John bit his lip to keep from grinning.

Sherlock reached out, wrapped an arm around John’s neck and pulled himself closer. His eyes wild.

“{FUCK ME NOW!}”

The omega’s voice thundered in the room.

Sherlock wrapped both of his long legs around John’s hips, his other arm arms came up and wrapped themselves around John’s shoulder, their faces inches apart as he pulled himself up John’s cock and then let himself go.

John nearly lost his grip surprised from the force of it as both he and Sherlock keened.

“Well! No need to be rude about it!” John laughed delighted as he thrust into him, hard.

“Oh…. Oh fuucuuk! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Yessssss!”

Sherlock used his legs and pulled John in, tried to impale himself as far as he could on the alpha’s cock as he stretched to receive him. Sherlock’s head and back banged against the door with each thrust. John wrapped a hand around the back of Sherlock’s neck, protecting his head. He placed his free hand on Sherlock’s abdomen in acknowledgement of the life there. Sherlock placed a hand over John’s on his abdomen as he moaned from the feel of John pulsing in his canal.

John growled as his knot swelled. It would swell, but not lock as deeply now that his omega was pregnant. Still, Sherlock keened he was filled with more of his alpha’s cock.

Each called, moaned and screamed the other’s name as the pressure built and finally spilled over. John gritted his teeth in the strain of staying upright as he came, not wanting to risk falling to the floor with an impaled omega in the throes of his own orgasm spilling between them.

Sherlock went slightly slack in his arms, his legs slid from around John’s hips to the floor. They stayed that way for a moment braced against the door until the flood of liquid seeping down told them John’s knot deflated.

John looked down and shook his head as he withdrew fully.

_More._

“Don’t worry. The room is alpha rated, remember? They know how the handle our type of detritus.” Sherlock looked down also, then looked up at John amazed. “Really?”

“Yes!” John’s teeth were bared in need.

“I want more… More of you… NOW.” There was a note in John’s voice that gave Sherlock pause and new arousal.

“Open it!” John grasped the omega’s hair harshly and pulled. John’s grip went from the back of the omega’s head to his throat, fingers that dug into his skin that it would leave bruises as Sherlock felt around behind him for the handle to open the door.

“Yes, Alpha.” Sherlock purred his eyes wild with new desire.

John backed them into the room and then it was a shock for Sherlock to find himself momentarily airborne as his alpha effortless turned, flung him towards the bed and moved in time to catch from falling. His breath was shaky as John took a sniff and smirked as more of Sherlock’s slick flowed in his obvious arousal of John’s blatant display of strength and agility.

Sherlock may not have alpha strength, but he certainly was no weakling himself and shoved at John. They fell in a tangle of limbs, groans and kisses. Sherlock moved so that he stood at the foot of the bed and simply admired John splayed becomingly before him.

John leant up on his elbows and he crooked a finger next to his equally beckoning cock. “Come here you.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

Sherlock leant his weight onto the bed and began to slowly crawl across it on all fours, his eyes fixed on his alpha’s darkening want. He peppered John’s body with kisses as he made his way up. Sherlock nuzzled into John’s crotch, rubbed his face against his alpha’s sizeable cock. John let out a deep sigh of contentment like parched man feeling that first sip of cool water as his body fell back and his blue eyes fluttered closed in desire. He sensed what his alpha wanted and continued his crawl up John’s body. He tilted his head so his mouth was on John's neck and John’s was on his own. He gasped as they were flushed against each other, bodies hot and sticky as John sucked on his bond bite and their scents rose.

Their natural scents along with Alpha Rut, Omega Heat and Sherlock’s slick rose in the room aphrodisiac aromas set their need ablaze.

“Oh…  my omega… I need…” John grabbed Sherlock's arse and ground it down on his feverish cock, desperate to feel him again.

"John!" Sherlock cried. It felt so good. So good.

The feel of his alpha’s cock in him along with the fresh pheromones John injected into him through the bond bite was euphoric as he rode hard.

It was a wild ride.

"Oh God! Sherlock I'm so… I’m so… close!" John bucked hard into Sherlock as he reached for the omega’s cock and squeezed hard.

“Alpha! So full… so full… so close!” Sherlock felt as though his orgasm was pulled out of him by force. He screamed as his alpha bucked hard into him, felt his alpha's come fill him hot and thick, even as his own cock twitched and he came over John’s fist.

Sherlock leaned down and licked some of himself from his alpha’s chest. 

John grabbed Sherlock's neck and pulled him down for a filthy open-mouthed kiss tasting the omega as his knot swelled again and rode out his orgasm.

Sherlock moaned as he rolled over onto his back and John followed. They licked each other clean where they could reach satiated as they waited for the knot to release.

As their breaths returned to normal John cupped Sherlock's face in his hand.

“{Hey you. I know you can hear me. Can you talk to me?}”

* * *

 

Sherlock blinked a couple of times as he acknowledged John did not openly speak the words. “How do you do it?”

John did not know how. He simply explained how he first felt Sherlock do it at the hospital. And a few times he has heard the omega do it by accident. He wanted to see if Sherlock could do so on purpose.

Sherlock replayed the complete memory of the night John bonded him with the missing pieces filled. From almost the very moment they bonded it had occurred between them.

[“{Omega?}”]

[“Yes, Alpha?”]

[“{ _Remember_ my blood always. You are _mine_.}”]

They had both dropped to core. The alpha had no way knowing at the time about Sherlock’s memory. John likely did not remember he had done this, he had no reason to expect his omega would remember.  

This was not the empathic emoting between bonded alpha and omega. His alpha spoke to him in clear words and had not opened his mouth. Sherlock had heard of mindspeak. The literal hearing your alpha’s true voice within your own mind, not the imagination of it.

Sherlock’s subconscious mind rapidly filled in the other times he had remembered, but could not place the what and why of it.

["{ALPHA!}"]

["{Staaaaay}"]

_When you eliminate the impossible…_

_So,  have had done it as well, but how…?_

He rapidly studied the inflections of John’s voice in his mind and that of his own voice and then he knew.

“{Yes, I can.}”

* * *

 

John watched as the genius searched his mind palace. He saw the moment when Sherlock figured it out.

“{Yes, I can.}”

John nodded as he heard his omega clearly in his head.

_He really can break through! Christ what does this mean?_

He grinned thrilled in the discovery. This was something new. He had never experienced this with his first bonding.

“{Are you going to explain…?}” Sherlock asked.

Of course, he would ask. He might be forgiven, but they both held residual anger in the memory. They had to work past it.

“{In a moment. For now, please listen…}”

He ran a thumb along Sherlock's bottom lip. He purposely raised his hand, opened it and laid it flat on Sherlock's chest. That cool curious gaze turned reflective as they searched his eyes.

“{You are not mine, yet you belong to me. Let us be something unique unto ourselves, yes.}”

Sherlock's face didn't change and yet John somehow knew the omega beamed as he recognized the words he had spoken to John in front of El Enlace. Slowly Sherlock placed his hand over John's and let it rest there. His breath quickened slightly when John did not close his fist in correction and accepted it.

“{Now hear me, my alpha.}”

_He really did break through! This is so much more than I ever imagined possible._

John had thought he imagined it earlier when everything happened as Sherlock had called on the mobile first. The alpha in him had responded instinctively and he marveled in it.

Sherlock took their joined hands and slowly, tentatively, but deliberately placed them on John’s chest over his heart and left them there.

“{You are mine, yet I do not own you.}”

_My left hand. Your right hand. Dominant to dominant. Alpha and Omega. Equals._

John’s breath hitched in the memory of his recalled words to Sherlock the night of El Enlace.

John moved his wrist and the two bracelets clinked together. He could feel their light drag as Sherlock moved their joined hands down until they stopped protectively over his abdomen again. John’s finger lightly traced the fine scar. A moment of grief flared.

“{Shh, my alpha. Focus on the living. We have created something unique unto ourselves.}”

John leaned in, his lips lightly capturing Sherlock’s as he gently spread their joined fingers over the swell of the two lives making their presence known.

“{I know. Ours, my omega.}”

They lay motionless, the world forgotten as they faced each other, eyes closed.

* * *

 

“Why did you say those things to her?” John asked quietly after a while.

Sherlock understood that you did not threaten an alpha’s pack, ever. That included the unborn. An alpha would prefer that you threaten their own life first and Sherlock knew from first backhand experience how well John takes a threat from him. Even now, Sherlock sensed the smallest fissure of rage and hurt at the memory from the alpha.

_He thought I was serious. He came by Baker Street the same evening of that call. No wonder he silenced me._

“She was saying how any pups would belong to the two of you. I knew you would not allow it, but I was so angry with her. Angry with how she was lying to you. I just wanted to hurt her as much as she was trying to hurt me. I did not mean those words. I had no idea you overheard.” Eyes still closed, Sherlock reached up and placed his hand back on John’s chest. “It took days to deduce what happened to me and how deep the scope of the silencing. When I learned I was pregnant I was determined that you would not find out unless I told you to your face. I understood that you did not want me to speak to you, but as the days passed I could not figure out why you did not want to talk to me. I only deduced exactly why yesterday.”

“I admit I was devastated by your words. Like you wanted Mary to hurt, I wanted you to hurt, but not like that. I swear to you, not like that. I did not expect you to listen to me. I fully expected you to keep trying like when you showed up at my job for three days in a row.” John ran his fingers along the hand and arm that touched him.  “When you stayed away I thought you were punishing me in turn. I missed you, but I did not know how to reach out to you and whenever I thought of those words. The hateful way you said them, I… I would just get angry all over again.”

“And the afternoon I came for my violin…?”

“I had figured out your pattern and when the surgery cancelled that morning I came home early praying you’d come. When I sat at the piano, I realized I had not played since you and I last played together. I had been playing for a while and so into it I did not hear you enter the house. Then I realized I heard you playing. And you were playing my song, which I had never heard you play before. You caught me by surprise. I was so happy to see you, Sherlock! I still did not understand how you could be silent after so long. You have accused me of sometimes being slow and I admit I was so slow. Beyond slow. It simply did not click. When I begged you to speak and still you said nothing I misinterpreted the anger I saw in your eyes. The hurt and anger in your pheromones. When you turned and left wordless, left your keys, I told myself what did I expect? That you did not care.”

Sherlock started to speak, but John stopped him, by pressing a soft finger momentarily to his lips.

* * *

 

“Let me finish, Sherlock, please. I swear I did not know I compelled you not to speak. I would have lifted it then and there had I realized. It did not occur to me that was why you were not speaking. And I begged you to speak. Oh, Christ! How cruel it must have looked to you, when you could not! I am so sorry, Sherlock. I swear I did not know. Please forgive me… Please!”

He felt Sherlock’s slight flush. “I already have my alpha, once I deduced it all out yesterday. I had only wanted to win the argument and shut her up. I never meant them and certainly never meant for you to hear them.”

“Is that all you wanted? To win the argument?”

“No.” Sherlock’s voice cracked and John felt the curly head shake. “I knew I wanted _you_ , but I didn’t quite know the rest of it yet, John. I acknowledged the truth of it later that day when it was...too late to say anything, but at that moment standing in front of her I did not want to admit it, not even to myself.”

“Admit what, Sherlock?” John looked to his omega at last. 

Sherlock opened his eyes and cool verdigris eyes looked deep into John's warm azure eyes. 

“That I loved you, John Watson. That I still very much do.”

John understood what the old woman meant, but actually hearing the quiet words out in the open was staggering.

_Somethings need to be felt and spoken._

“And I love you, Sherlock Holmes, my omega. And our pups” John brought his lips down on the cupid bow lips of his omega.

They both gently gasped as something expanded, opened between them.

“John Watson, my alpha.” Sherlock smiled under John’s most tender kiss. “We know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I could not throw away my shot at ending this year with a bang. (Yeah, I went there - lol)


	53. Past Tales Told

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha John Watson shows his dark side and tells his omega Sherlock Holmes a secret from his past that he has told no one before.

_It is time._

“Though I assume you have kept your promise and stayed out of my past without asking me first, I also assume Mycroft has tried to tell you things.” John began quietly.

Sherlock stilled for just a moment and then gave a slight nod.

_Yes, I am ready to tell you now, my omega._

“Yes, he has tried. It took a couple of times before he accepted that I was serious about honoring my promise to you.” Sherlock responded just as quietly. John felt the omega’s interest slowly pique as he continued speaking. “I admit he had left me one tempting nugget. One he said was not in any of the files he gave me. I deduced that to mean something happened between the two of you that sent him digging much deeper. Mycroft does not like anyone’s secrets being hidden, but his own. I wouldn’t allow him to tell me more about it. I felt it will be revealed when you were ready to answer the only question I have.” 

“She called it _compel_. It fit so I used it.”

“She?” Sherlock looked up, “Your first bonded omega?”

“Yes. Janine.” John nodded slowly as memories seized his heart.

“Janine Hawkins.” Sherlock said softly, “Damn you Mycroft.”

John grimaced. He felt Sherlock’s ire at his brother.

_Of course, he dug that deep. So he has put it together and likely deduced out what I can do._

“Let me guess, Mycroft wanted you to blindside me with her name and watch my reaction?”

“Exactly.”

“Bloody bastard.”

“Exactly.”

John took a deep breath, then exhaled.

“Yes, Janine. Most called her Jay Hawk. I only ever called her Jay. She named what I do _compelling_. That once the thought was put in her head she felt obligated, compelled to follow through on it.”

“That is what I called it as well once I deduced it.” Sherlock said thoughtfully. “Did she get headaches, pains as well? If she tried to resist.”

_What? Oh God! Is that what has happened for nearly three months?_

“Oh Sherlock!” John gasped appalled at himself for the unnecessary pain caused. “I’m so sorry! Sherlock.”

“Yes, well I did not help the matter, did I?”

John untangled their sheet and each other and began a page in his own history that he had told absolutely no one before.

“Jay was a tall beautiful brunette, full of life and so much sass for an omega. Smart as a whip and the first omega in my peerage who like you outright refused the traditional role pushed upon her. She continued her education because _she_ wanted to learn, even though her parents tried to make a _proper_ omega of her. You certainly would have liked her. I was sixteen and she was just shy of fifteen when her family moved into my neighborhood. We were all in each other’s space from the moment we met at school. She was Irish and had a delightful lilt. We argued like cats and had sex like dogs. We were not monogamous in the beginning, but we had dated for several weeks when I snuck into her room one eve. We were already snogging when her heat started kicking in in earnest. Like with you I managed not to mate her, but I did bond her. It was winter. She kept the bond bite hidden under sweaters and turtlenecks, until it healed. Still, everyone knew. No one was surprised when we started dating exclusively.”

John sat up, crossed arms rested on knees, his chin on his arms. He stared off into the past as memories overtook him.

He noticed as Sherlock sat up beside him and listened.

“The first time I compelled her was an accident. It was summer. She had been teasing me about this lacy new bra and knickers set she was wearing. It was a Friday. From early in the morning when I picked her up for school, until well in the evening when a bunch of us were at my mate Bradley’s place after rugby, she kept teasing me about it. Brad’s parents both worked night shift on Friday nights, there was no adult supervision. Suffice to say a lot happened in their basement they are never going to know about. There were six of us in the basement all alpha and omega couples. I remember Jay said to me “Keep it up and I’ll show you.” Me full of lust, having no sense nor a clue put her hand on my hard cock through my jeans said, “It’s already up { _do it!_ }”.

The last two words he purposely compelled as he spoke and felt it as Sherlock startled. He knew the omega felt it, but not having an actual something to _do_ , frowned confused. 

Sherlock glanced at John, who nodded. John knew Sherlock felt as though he had to do something, _anything_.

“Suffice to say it shocked us all, especially her, when she immediately started to open her blouse then and there. In a panic I yelled “{ _Stop_!} What are you doing‽” and she stopped.” John and Sherlock both felt as the compelling to _do it_ released. Sherlock nodded as he understood what happened.

_No, my omega, you still don’t understand all of it. Not yet._

“We were all completely surprised. Exhibitionism was not her thing, yet she had almost flashed my mates and did not seem to know why. All she could tell me was “You told me to!” We left Brad’s place in an argument.” John continued. “I did not understand why she suddenly had to listen to me then when she freely back talked and ignored me before when I commanded her. It happened a few more times by accident, before I felt the difference in the inflection of my voice and knew. I understood then what I could do. What I could do to her and only her because I bonded her.”

John stood and walked away from the omega. He remembered the feel of knowing he had that power.

“I remember thinking – _is this how the devil feels when he plays with souls_?” His fists clenched and released in the memory.

“I could make her do _anything_ , Sherlock. And I did…” John continued to speak, but his mind was many miles and many years away. “Bark like a dog. Cluck like a chicken. Made a girl who said _forget you_ because she did not swear, curse like a sailor. And because I was a horny teen I made her pleasure me. I made her pleasure herself. Sometimes others. I once made her fail an English exam, because she boasted too much about how she an omega had a better score than all the alphas had on the previous exam. She was livid, but because I had compelled her not to tell anyone what I could do she was stuck. As far as anyone knew she was going through a wild streak, as some teens do and because I was half wild myself as her alpha, people allowed it. No one was getting hurt, so no one got involved. She was my omega to control, or not, as I pleased. I am so ashamed now to admit how much it pleased me to make her do bad things. I was such a petty bastard, but to be fair she also enjoyed it. We were toxic for each other before _toxic relationships_ was a catchphrase. I liked how she would try to resist, be in tears from it and then give in to...  _everything_. She liked to see what craziness I would make her do. Sometimes she came up with her own and would beg me to compel her to do it. We once won a game by forfeit. She dared me to compel her to sneak into the opposing team’s locker room a half-hour before their arrival time and spread her slick around. She was in the onset of heat.”

“No.” Sherlock gasped as the ramifications of such became clear. “How bad was it?”

“One player was comatose for a week, another for two days, four broken tibias, two broken ulnas, too many cracked ribs and multiple contusions. The betas on the team were completely confused before the team captain had enough sense to get to the coach and tranqs were brought in. We were teens, we alphas had all heard of melees, but none of us had seen the results of one first-hand. It was bad.” John could not help the tiny smile that formed. “People assumed an unknown male omega in heat went through. Jay was in the bleachers impatiently waiting for me; I was on the field when the melee broke out. People were “Oh my, that’s horrible!” Jay and I were trying hard to keep a straight face. We brought out the dark side in each other and we _liked_ it.”

John stood for a few moments in the memory of the volatile omega. He absentmindedly rubbed his right arm at the scar received when he had compelled her to stab him.

“God! The fighting! The fucking! The dares and double dares. We were so bad together, Sherlock.”

“What happened to her, John?” Sherlock asked softly.

John could tell by the omega's voice he had already deduced the answer.

“I happened to her.” John answered painfully.

“We had lost a vital game that knocked us out of the running for the season. I was in a foul temperament. She was trying to be supportive, but I was not hearing it and took it out on her. In turn she became testy herself. We got into an argument in the car as I drove her home. I… I was angry. Angry like I was that day…with you. She screamed at me “What else do I need to do to prove how much I love you‽” and I screamed back “I don’t know! Some random sunny day go pick a bridge and jump!” I did not know I had said it in compel.”

John’s eyes were glassy, he saw nothing - lost in the memory.

“Weeks later. Long after we had apologized and made up. Long after we were back to our sick games. Long after it was all forgotten. Forgotten until… until… until it was a random sunny day….”

“No.” Sherlock whispered.

“I was on the field at a footie game in Croydon when I felt it. Felt the severance.” Tears streamed down the alpha’s face and he groaned in pain.

_Oh God, Jay! I’m so sorry!_

“I was down for nearly two weeks. She was already buried when I came out of it. I killed her… I killed her, but did not know I had until the details of her presumed suicide were told to me. She had left no note. She had to have been so terrified! All alone on a bridge, days before her birthday trying to resist and could not! Oh God I killed her, Sherlock! I killed her just as sure as if I had pushed her from the bridge myself. I killed her… I killed her… I killed her…”

The emotions hit hard.

John dropped to his knees. It has been many years since he allowed himself to think about Jay and everything that happened. This is the very first time he had spoken about it ever. A strangled sound ripped from his throat. 

Sherlock came to his side. John felt him trying to send comfort.

_No!_

John blocked Sherlock.

_I don’t deserve comfort! I don’t deserve balm! Not for this!_

John took the pain of the memory on himself, not wanting to ease his burden, not wanting to ease his guilt.

Still, John leaned against Sherlock as the tears fell.

“Everyone understandably assumed I was traumatized by Jay’s death, but no one knew the depths of why. I did not date anyone the rest of my A Levels. Since then I have _played_ with other omegas, but I never romantically dated them. I have romantically dated betas and a few alphas as I know I cannot bond them, and for whatever reason I have almost never been attracted to alpha females romantically. Once in the army, I learned how to partially bond an omega long enough to compel information and then let the bond atrophy with little discomfort to either of us. All of my superiors were told by the omegas that I had an irresistible command voice, that had to answer me. I saw no reason to correct them as they seemed to forget once the bond atrophied. I have done… _things_ …things I’ve learned to live with and move past. Jay is the one thing I have never forgiven myself for and I never fully bonded an omega again until you. I was grateful you wanted nothing to do with me in the beginning. Grateful you used the Ancient Forms. _Alpha cannot love Second Mate_. I thought it would keep you safe from me. I fought it, Sherlock. Still, I unknowingly silenced you and now I am terrified again.”

John felt Sherlock's push to reach him. His omega was still trying to comfort him.

“I’m not afraid you, my alpha.” Sherlock whispered.

_Damn you, you still do not understand._

“I did not know I had silenced you until just before I went feral at the hospital and then you asked me about it, confirming it, Sherlock. That was silence; it could have been so much worse and you with our pups. No.” John shook his head as he slowly stood again. He walked away from Sherlock to the window. “And you still don’t understand the monster...”

“The monster?” Sherlock looked up. “Yes, you certainly have your moods my alpha, but…”

_Forgive me, Sherlock…_

John let loose his control and went slightly feral. He turned toward Sherlock.

He grinned when he felt the slight fear form in his omega.

* * *

 

 

  
[Man and Beast 3 by Allinor](https://www.deviantart.com/allinor/art/Man-and-Beast-3-322339553%20%20%20%20Man%20and%20Beast%203%20by%20Allinor)

  
Sherlock felt the shock as he watched his alpha. Watched as John gritted his teeth and something within John…

 _Shifted_.

Sherlock had first glimpsed the darkness from John the night they bonded. The darkness that almost got John tranquilized and Lestrade killed the next day at Killa Kuppa.

“John?” Sherlock slowly stood as he shuddered at the being before him.

It looked like his John, but the doctor, the former army captain, the man – were gone.

This was his alpha core. Cold. Unyielding.

_Dark._

And Sherlock’s dark _wanted_ it.

The alpha’s lips curled, but Sherlock would not call the bared teeth a smile.

“{ _Punch your fist through the window, Omega._ }”

“{Yes, Alpha.}” Sherlock sighed with desire.

The omega started to the window. He was going to punch the window with everything he had. The omega _wanted_ to do this. He _wanted_ to feel the glass pane as it shattered under his strength. He _wanted_ it more than anything.

Sherlock was halfway to the window before it occurred to him to stop.

_Oh God!_

A familiar spike of pain went through the omega as he resisted. Pain he knew would only get worse the more he tried to resist. He tried anyway.

“{No, Alpha…}” the omega pushed back.

The alpha frowned as he watched the omega struggle and Sherlock felt the shift in himself that wanted to comply.

The dark in the alpha called to the dark in the omega and he _wanted_.

Sherlock inhaled and approached the window and drew his fist back.

Were Sherlock and John seen by anyone else at that moment, it would have been said they shared the same dark smile.

_For you my Alpha._

_“{Stop!}”_

Sherlock felt a different shift and blinked.

“Alpha?” Sherlock sagged as the compelling released.

With a breath, John was back and ran to Sherlock’s side just as the omega nearly collapsed before the window. _“{Breathe, my love. Calm.}”_

Sherlock felt the apology before the words were spoken.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock! I’m so sorry!” John carried Sherlock back to the chaise and sat. He immediately pulled Sherlock onto his lap and sent comfort to him and the pups. “It’s always a risk when I let loose.”

“Why did you do that?” Sherlock asked when they had settled.

“I had to let you see, needed you to understand the monster you’re fighting against. The monster I’m fighting against letting loose every single day since the Army. I went feral for the first time there. They taught us how to unleash our monster on purpose and use it as a weapon. They did not teach how to put the monster back in the cage. Those who did not learn to control themselves were...put down. I told you when I bonded you, you will find out things...I’m sorry.”

_He had said as much. Somehow, I expected worse._

“Noooo…” Sherlock drew the vowel out, “Why did you stop me from punching the window just then?”

John paused for a moment.

Sherlock felt it when John understood.

“You knew I’d stop, you.” John kissed Sherlock’s temple. “How?”

“I told you, I’m not afraid of you.” Sherlock turned on the chaise to face him. “I saw a hint of the monster as you call it the night you bonded me. I would have run terrified then were I not trapped in your hold, as you possessed me. Remember the next day at Killa Kuppa, your head turned about to rip Lestrade to shreds because he threatened to tranq you? I stepped to you with Mary and talked you down. Forgive me, but… I saw the videotape...I saw what you did.” He felt when John startled, but said nothing, so Sherlock continued. “You were with Jay for nearly two years. For all that happened between you, were you in love with her?”

John’s mouth opened, fully prepared to give the expected automatic answer. He closed it a moment later as he gave it thought.

Sherlock waited.

“Walter had asked me the same thing a few years after she died. He never understood why I wouldn’t attach myself to another omega. I never told him. I knew my bonding Jay when I did was a reaction to her being in heat and my being inexperienced. I stayed with her out of obligation, I had bonded her, she was mine. The beginning of that strong moral compass I guess.” They both sniffed a small laugh at that, “Yet, in retrospect, I have to say, no,. I grew to love her, yes. Very much so in the end. Still, for all that I thought I felt for Mary… it… pales. Walter had warned me that I would meet the right omega and I would know. Given how I feel about you, I think my alpha knew the moment I went through the fire for you, before I even realized you were an omega. Given what you and I now share. No, I was never in love with her.”

“You love me. You won’t let me hurt myself badly. The silencing was frustrating, but it was our own stubbornness and lack of communication that caused the most damage between us. It would not have taken so long were we in the same house. Had I told everyone I was pregnant someone would have gotten to you and it would not have been of my direct doing. Sooner or later you would have learned, come to me and figured it out.” Sherlock turned to lay against John again. The alpha wrapped his arms around the omega.

Sherlock pushed comfort and felt it as it was reluctantly let in. He felt his alpha’s hurt that lingered from reliving the memories. He felt the shame. Felt John’s fear of someday hurting him.

“{Don’t be afraid. I trust you.}”

“{How? I no longer trust myself.}”

“You call it the monster, but that dark is as much a part of our cores as any else. The monster is going to try, I understand that, but the monster only understands compliance. It was why you and Jay bonded as deeply as you did. Like hers, it appeals to my inner monster and makes me want what you want. My dark _wanted_ to hit that window as though my life depended on it, before I thought to question it. Once there was resistance, the monster questioned it, but only the man can answer that and that is when you slipped back in and stopped me. Your monster may have wanted to make me hurt myself and my monster would have allowed it, but the man loves me. The man stopped me. You were a boy when you bonded her. She had the boy. I have the man. I don’t trust the monster, but I trust the man. I trust you, John.” Sherlock tilted his head up and kissed him, “If you cannot trust yourself, then trust me, alpha. Trust the trust that I have.”

Sherlock sent love to his alpha and smiled gently at the little bit of hope that sparked as John returned the kiss.

They both heard as Sherlock’s stomach rumbled.

“Wondered about that when I hadn’t heard it yet.” John chuckled.

“It’s not always as vocal as it was our first time. But I do feel it. And the twins. Shall we order lunch and then go to El Biblioteca Nacional?” Sherlock stood.

He turned as he felt John’s eyes on him.

John’s deep eyes stared into his as the alpha’s hands grasped Sherlock’s hips and pulled him close. Pulled him until his lips kissed the small mound that held their pups. Sherlock basked in the relief and love he felt from the alpha, his hand resting in John’s hair.

Sherlock's stomach rumbled again, louder than before.

“Fine, you three! Go take a shower. I’ll order food.” John rose up from the chaise.

The alpha grinned to himself, watched as Sherlock walked into the en-suite.

_Only my omega could make a base act as unconsciously scratching one’s bollocks somehow look dignified._

“Just leave it in the salon.” John rang out and followed his omega to the washroom.

* * *

  
Sherlock turned on the taps, adjusted the temperature and stepped into the shower. He did a complete turn under the spray, the water splashing over his skin for a moment. He adjusted the shower head and rolled his shoulders, letting the pulse jet spray of the water hit his muscles. He did another full turn. Shoulder, chest, shoulder, back.

It was not a conscious decision to bend his neck and the jets hit his neck where his curls came to a point at vertebrae of his spine.  It certainly was not his intent as he rolled his neck and the jets hit the gland of the bond bite.

He reached out to tiles and braced in the position as he enjoyed the feel.

“You look…like you need me.” John rumbled from the shower door, his voice full of lust.

Before Sherlock could complete his inhale of surprise, he was engulfed in John’s arms. John’s strong fingers at first slid across his body in soft strokes. The soft strokes firmed as those doctor’s hands kneaded the muscles of his arms and shoulders. Muscles he had not realized needed loosening until he felt his spine begin to turn to jelly.

“Oh, that feels wonderful, John.” Sherlock’s eyes closed of their own volition.

“Need to kiss you.” John’s breath ghosted his shoulder as he angled Sherlock slightly out of the spray of the water, the delightful feel of the pulsating jets the teased the bond bite was replaced by exquisite feel his alpha’s canines as they sank in. He hissed as John fingers captured his nipples in a steady tight squeeze.

 _Alpha Rut_ rose with the steam and his already pliable body responded accordingly.

“Christ! You smell incredible,” John groaned moments later as waves of _Omega Heat_ reached him. “Need to taste you.”

“{MINE!}” John’s voice was a rumble in Sherlock’s mind that washed over him.

“Oh, you like that!” John stood and pressed entire body against the writhing omega.  Sherlock nodded.

“Well, I like you begging.”

“No.” Sherlock smirked even as he moaned from the feel of John’s erection against his arse. He rubbed his arse against the thick cock in an incredibly slow sinuous move the caused the alpha to moan.

“Nice.” John wrapped and arm around Sherlock’s torso and pressed himself closer. “You know you want this. You know you want my cock.”

It was true. Sherlock would shift as he tried to get to that right spot and John counter-shifted. The movement themselves adding to the fire.  He also knew denying John was revving the alpha up as well.

“Beg me, Sherlock.” John’s teeth ran along the bond bite. “Look at how you slick for me. I can smell it over the water. You’re so greedy for me my omega. You want my cock in that sweet hole of yours. You want to feel the stretch of me expand in you. You want to feel the heat of me thrusting. You want to feel my knot swell in you. You want to feel the heat as my come shoots up in you filling you. If you weren’t already pregnant it’s a guarantee you would be. Look at how you’re writhing my omega. You’re damn near seeing stars. You know what you need to do. Beg me to fuck you.”

Each word that dropped from the alpha’s mouth was another lit match as Sherlock started t keen. Still…

“No.” Sherlock shook his head in the negative fully knowing he was going to regret it.

“Really?” John’s low laughter in his ear was frightening as a single finger trailed a slow intoxication path down his back and Sherlock nearly screamed as that finger rammed into his hole at alpha speed.

“Beg me.” John sing-songed as he ripped it out just as quickly.

John slicked his hand between the omega’s thighs and grabbed Sherlock’s cock in a tight squeeze that had the omega cry out. It seemed as though the alpha was everywhere on him.

Sherlock was trapped in the sensations of John’s nails that raked his torso while his teeth nipped and grazed down his back. John nipped at the skin by his coccyx.

The heat of John’s warm tongue teased against Sherlock’s cleft of his arse cheeks. Sherlock released a long breathy sigh as John’s fingers grasped his arse cheeks and spread them. John’s tongue no longer teased as the alpha pressed the tip of it into his hole.

The sole power of John holding him in place kept Sherlock standing even as he threw is head back and howled the current of pleasure jolted through his entire being.

The alpha ran his hands all along Sherlock’s body everywhere he could reach all the while he teased the tender flesh with his teeth and tongue.

Sherlock tried to reach back and grab John’s head.

“Hands on the wall, _now_!” John hissed in full alpha growl.

Sherlock's fingers scrambled for purchase against the slippery tiles, he whimpered as his slick flowed more.

“More! Oh god more!” he mewled.

“Oh, you can do better than that.” John taunted and flicked his tongue in Sherlock’s hole again and that did it.

“John, please!” he managed, his fingers sliding down the tiles as he pressed his forehead against the wall. “Need you to fuck me,” he breathed out as he pressed his hips back again, trying to urge the doctor on.

“Please,” Sherlock whined. He felt John’s smirk and did not care desperation drove him on. “Oh god, I need your cock, your knot! Alpha!”

John purposely flicked his tongue everywhere but where he knew the omega wanted it most.

“Goddamn you! Fuck me!” Sherlock roared.

“Well, since you asked so nicely, again.” John stood. He reached for a flannel and washed his face with one hand as the other slipped between Sherlock’s cheeks. Sherlock moaned loudly as he ground himself on John’s hand.  

“{Grab it!}” John snarled as he pushed Sherlock forward.

Sherlock barely had hold of the showers safety bar when John lined up and sheathed himself in Sherlock’s in one go.

“{YES!}” Alpha and Omega shouted together.

“I love it when you beg. You make such lovey noises when desperate. So beautiful,” John thrust in slowly and earned a strangled moan from the omega.

“Sherlock! So tight!”

Sherlock clenched around John’s thick cock and caused the alpha to moan loudly as he shifted his hips. Unable to speak John moved Sherlock’s hand from the grab bar and lowered them to their knees on the shower floor the water spraying their backs as the alpha started a fast, rough pace the torturing of Sherlock having driven him close the edge as well.

Inelegant sounds poured from alpha and omega lips as they chased their pleasure.

Sherlock shattered as John’s knot expanded and the alpha came hot and fast filling him. Sherlock’s mind blanked as all thoughts and no thoughts collided.  It was with effort John got them off the shower floor and cleaned up before they made there way back to the bedroom.

Sherlock laughed as John went into the sitting area and brought in the rolling serving tray of food just as Sherlock and the twins' hunger rumbled again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record - you can blame/thank my beta Amplewoman for the shower scene. She asked for it.


	54. The More You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha John Watson traveled to South America in hope to find clues, with his Omega Sherlock Holmes, that may have impact on a case, but something finds him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope every one enjoyed the extra holiday postings. Back to my regular Tuesday only postings...

“- … And with the deep creases, the scroll had to be humidified in stages. Staff started working on this since very early this morning. We’ve been monitoring and unfolding it over the course of the day. We have been graced with luck that it has responded well. Now we start to flatten it. -” Echeverría greeted them as they entered the room.

Introductions were casually made while they watched Ernesto Sandoval and Anton Fernandez, museum workers who came over the previous afternoon to assist Echeverría and his assistant and Elena Venegas in the restoration of the scroll. They carefully lifted the unfolded scroll out of the humidifying chamber and had it lain on clean wool felt to blot the material. Venegas and Echeverría had documented the process via photographs. Venegas took pictures of the laid out scroll before more blotting material was added on top to help absorb the moisture and a heavy sheet of Plexiglas placed atop to flatten it.

“- It is beautiful. -” Juan Diaz Alcantara, the cuentista, spoke with awe as it was first placed down. Sherlock understood the awe in seeing such history unfold before them.

_It really is._

About 100 x 55cm/4 x 3ft in size, there were myriad markings in the middle with designs all along the edges in beautiful marginalia.

“- The markings are unusual. I do see what you spoke of Sherlock. These do look like my birth mark. -” John added as he watched them work.

That garnered Alcantara’s attention. “- Birth mark? -”

“- Yes. -” John removed his jacket and rolled up his right sleeve to show them. Echeverría turned John’s arm slightly aligning it with the marking on the scroll.

“- It is uncanny how well they match. -” Sandoval looked over at John’s arm and visually compared the two with much interest. Sandoval, an unbonded omega, was a moment away from touching John’s arm his intent clear. He was looking for an alpha.

_Mine!_

Sherlock’s head barely moved, but _Omega Threat_ snaked out viciously. Sandoval quickly withdrew his hand as though burned, as the only other male omega in the room quirked a dark brow at the man in warning and held up the wrist with the gold bracelet.

“{Omega?}” John, who with Echeverría compared the birthmark to the marking on the scroll had missed the silent exchange between the two omegas. He looked over when he felt the flash of possessiveness from Sherlock. He only saw as Sandoval bowed his head to the alpha in clear apology. John nodded once in acknowledgement and flicked amused eyes to his omega as he rolled his sleeve down, his own bracelet clearly showing.

“{Nothing, Alpha.}” Sherlock shook his head as Sandoval excused himself for the washroom. Sherlock looked to Echeverría, “- At first, I thought it would all be Mayan because of where we are, but some of it looks African and other parts perhaps Sanskrit. -”

“- Are you fluent in African and Sanskrit languages? -” John looked to Sherlock surprised.

“- No, but I do recognize Nsibidi, Adrinka, Brahmi and a couple more when I see them. These are ancient, but there are roots that I recognize. -” Sherlock pointed out certain patterns on the scroll. “- South America and the Caribbean have a heavy African influence due to the centuries of slave trading before it was abolished. It is no surprise some of the culture and language became integrated with the indigenous and then with colonization. - ”   

 “- You have a good eye Mr. Holmes. You are correct. -” Alcantara nodded impressed. “- I believe Lautaro had said to you that this predates Christ. I admit I was not sure myself until it was fully opened. You have heard of _Pangea_? -”

“- Yes, the theory that over the millions of years of Earth’s existence, between the Techtonic Plates shifting and Continental Drift, the continents as we know them now, broke apart from a single landmass named Pangea. -” John looked to Alcantara.

“- Excellent. Most people forget about Pangea, if they ever learned it. -” Alcantara nodded impressed.

“{Or deleted it.}” John couldn’t resist the tease to Sherlock.

“{Not that again. It’s not IMPORTANT.}”

“{But it’s the SOLAR SYSTEM!}”

Sherlock sighed deeply, then shot John a dirty look as he realized the cuentista interpreted his sigh as him being among the ones who forgot about Pangea. He gritted his teeth in annoyance as John barely stifled a smile.

“- Mr. Echeverría, regrettably there is pressing business back in London and we cannot wait for the process to complete. May I take some pictures of my own? I assure you they are only for my research. They will not be published. -”

“- Normally, we like to keep such things proprietary considering its uniqueness, but were it not for your interest who knows how long it would be before the damaged scroll was discovered? -” Echeverría nodded “I am grateful. I have your contact information. I will send you all the photos we have now, plus whatever more we take.”

“- Thank you. That is very generous of you. -” Sherlock pulled out his mobile, took his own pictures and thanked the technician again when he was done.

As John put his jacket on again, he arched a brow at Sherlock. 

_John knows I already have every centimeter of this scroll memorized. However, I know he does not. It will be easier to just show him later, than to try to describe minute details._

“- We have to cover the scroll now before the edges start cockling. I am sorry you cannot see this through to the end. Again, we are grateful. -” Echeverría removed he gloves he wore.

Echeverría was a beta who knew AO protocol well. Sherlock noted he held out his hand to the cuentista first.

_Is it simple seniority?_

“- We are the ones who are grateful for your time. Thank you. -” John nodded as he shook Echevarria’s hand next.

 “-Juan, you know how boring the rest of this process is for civilians. Perhaps you can take them to one of the offices for your discussion. -”

“- Thank you, Lautaro. These old bones could use a seat about now. -”

“-  Oh, Juan, my apologies. I really do forget… -”

Lautaro Echeverría can tell you the technical history of an object – the what and when of it. Its age, its function, how it was made. A historian can tell you the where and how of it affected man.  But for ancient items to come to life one needs a cuentista- a storyteller. Similar to a griot of Africa – a cuentista was one who maintained the tradition of the oral history of Alpha and Omegas in South America, a cuentista brings the important who and why of the items.

Sherlock watched as John tried to deduce the story teller. He was average height, dark complexioned, warm brown eyes that saw more than they told. His scent matched that of the old lady at the airport.

_She called us kind. Core. Does that make him Core as well? Their scents, while similar to each other, are very different than any alpha or omega I’ve ever encountered and yet… not._

“- Mist… er Juan, if you don’t mind my asking…? -” John cocked his head.

Juan Alcantara smiled kindly. Lautaro Echeverría out right grinned in anticipation.

Sherlock saw as John braced himself for the answer. Sherlock arched a curious brow himself waiting. He had placed the man at no older than seventy years and that stretched it.

“- By best guestimates I am one hundred and four years old, señores. -” He smiled. “- They can only prove one hundred and two of them. -”

Sherlock and John both stopped short and looked hard at the man. Echeverría laughed at their surprised expressions, clearly used to such reactions as he led them to an office.

_He is so virile!_

“- We are even more honored then that you grace us with your knowledge and your time, sir. -” Sherlock said, honestly impressed as he held a door for the three men.

Sandoval had also reached the door from the other direction as he returned from the washroom. Head bowed he waited as Sherlock held the door. Alcantara as the eldest of them went first. Echeverría was a beta, but he was an older man, it was a simple matter of respect to an elder regardless of gender as John went behind them. Ernesto waited as the two elder men and John as an alpha proceeded to go through. Sherlock knew Ernesto was going to attempt to go through the door immediately after John passed while Sherlock still held it open. It was a petty move, but one that would place Sherlock in subservient position of serving him if only for a moment.

_Does he know I am officially John’s Second Mate? Or is he simply being an uncouth fool?_

An alpha holds a door open for their first mate or for senior alphas such as their own Alpha Patriarch, an older Alpha Proxy or elder Alphas only. Second Mates, even pregnant ones are not included as they are considered beneath all others. It is First Mate’s option to hold the door for the second mate only when the second mate is pregnant. If the first mate is not present or chooses not to hold the door, the second mate was on his or her own to get through.

In a situation where multiple omega, but one alpha arrives at a single door, the omegas not belonging to the alpha must wait until the alpha has moved away from the door before going through, unless the omega is Second Mate. Second Mates must wait for all others to go through first, then in order of presumed seniority, if known, or arrival among other the second mates.

Sherlock had mentally rolled his eyes fully prepared to let the door close in Sandoval’s face when John stepped to the threshold and placed his back against the door as he pointedly held it open for Sherlock.

“Alpha.” Sherlock hid his surprise as he bowed his head to John and walked through. John’s fingers grasped Sherlock's for a moment as he passed.

Once Sherlock had stepped through John stood at the door just long enough for it to be uncomfortable where neither he nor Sandoval moved before the alpha stepped away and let the door go. Sherlock waited until John passed him again with a knowing wink and followed behind on his alpha’s right. They both felt the flash of Sandoval’s chagrin as he opened the door for himself.

“{You… you treated me as First Mate, John.}”

John pointedly glanced over his left shoulder, his dominant side.

_He knows I am standing to his right, why is he… oh._

Sherlock could not hide his pleasure as he moved to John’s left side. John smiled at him once he was in his visual range on his left side.

“{I know.}”

Green eyes met blue. There was no mistaking the emotions that passed between them as they entered the office Echeverría opened to them.

“- Nicely done, alpha. -” Alcantara smiled at John knowingly after Echeverría departed. “- Ernesto is young, but most of his peers have paired off and he’s feeling a little bereft. Forgive him his insolence. -”

“- He was especially interested in my birthmark. -” John brushed it off.

“- And nearly had his head handed to him for it. -” Juan gave an amused glance to Sherlock. “- Thought your omega there was going to break his fingers had he actually touched you.”

“Breaking his fingers would have been the starting point.” Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

John grinned.

“{Aw, you say the sweetest things!}”

“{Do shut up!}”

“Let me pop out to the loo. I’ll be back in a moment.” John gave Sherlock a kiss on the temple “You three behave while I’m gone.”

“{Oh, come now, John, I think I deserve better than a peck on the temple after my blatant territorial display.}”

“Never.” Sherlock said aloud as he turned his face to John for a proper kiss.

“{You’re going to blame this on hormones – aren’t you?}”

“{Of course!}”

“That’s my omega.” John laughed as he obliged the omega with a deeper kiss and left.

* * *

 

“- Alpha Watson? -”

John looked up in the mirror as he washed his hands.

 _Sandoval_.

“- I waited. I was hoping I would have a moment alone with you. -” His head was bowed. He lifted his eyes only to meet John’s in the mirror.

John sighed to himself.  “- Look kid. I appreciate the interest, but I have an omega. An amazing one. I’m not… -”

“- I understand that Alpha. You have an exceptional omega. He would never walk away from you willingly. -” Ernesto bobbed his head in agreement.

“- No, he would not. -” a part of John swelled with pride in the confidence of knowing such.

_No, he would not, now._

John reached for the paper serviettes to dry his hands, he paused as something in the scents around him changed and he was immediately on guard.

“I suppose that is why he needs proper encouragement.”  Sandoval approached the alpha slowly. “I am sorry, not for what has been done…”

“- What the hell do you mean? -” John moved at alpha speed and had the omega pinned against the wall. 

“…but for what will happen. -” The omega’s surprise at being up against the wall was quickly erased by the smile that graced his face as John heard glass vials drop at his feet as the other occupant of a stall emerged wearing a gas mask.

_“{SHERLOCK RUN!}”_

The alpha at least had the satisfaction of feeling Ernesto Sandoval’s neck snap in his hands before the fumes overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, now - don't be like that! I was nice to you guys for Christmas and New Year's - you had to know this was coming...


	55. Chasing Ancient History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega Sherlock Holmes is in South America with his Alpha John Watson investigating clues for a case when the very unexpected happens that could change everything...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jiffy Pop

“- Yes, Ernesto would be. In this part of the world Cahriah is more woven into our folklore than in Europe or even North America. -” Juan brought him back to the subject at hand as John left.

“- Please continue Mr. Alcantara. -” Sherlock took the hint.

“- Call me Juan, please. Most of mankind believes in either Creationism – that man was created by a God or Darwinism that man evolved from apes. There are other beliefs, but I believe my purpose here is Lycanthropy and ancient Alpha and Omega lore, yes? -” The man smiled.

“- It is. -” Sherlock agreed, “- You mentioned Lycanthropy? Is Cahriah a part of it? -”  

“- Very much so. In ancient lore, there was also a belief in Lycanthropy that Alphas and Omega evolved from wolves. It is why we use many of the terms associated with them. Due to Paganism, witchcraft and our dwindling numbers in population, Lycanthropy lore became mixed with those of Greek mythology, Hesiod et al, to the point where stories of Lycaon are believed to be the genesis of werewolves. Though we obviously are considerably more real than any werewolves, our existence is also branded more as folklore. -” Juan leaned forward on the conference table.

“- Given today’s social climate, as a male omega I already know my pregnancy will be seen more as a transgender issue. I have been mentally preparing myself for the inevitable disparaging remarks from the Alpha/Omega uninformed as well as the transgender intolerant when I start to really show. -” Sherlock sighed.

“- Not going into retirement then? -” Juan teased already knowing the answer before Sherlock snorted in derision as response.

While a female omega’s pregnancy can easily blend in with female betas. It is not so for pregnant male omegas. There is always a point where a male omega’s condition becomes obvious and not simple weight gain. As some transgender males have chosen to partake in gestation for their family, while far from being commonplace, it has made it marginally easier for the pregnant omega male to be out in a world where pregnancy is still considered an exclusively feminine domain. Attempting to explain secondary genders and the male omega’s biology of having functioning uteri and testes to the uninformed as well as being subjected to a variety of negative social experiences from the transphobic was often not worth the emotional turmoil. As the visibility of their kind dwindled it has become accepted custom for the gravid male omega to _retire_ , be more of a home body as his pregnancy advanced.

“- Hardly. -” Sherlock confirmed. “- So, you’re saying the scroll has influences from across cultures because it predates before the continents were separated via Continental Drift, etcetera? -”

“- I cannot say that. That type of date stamping belongs to the bailiwick of those like Echeverría. -” Alcantara clarified, “- I am saying that the culture that survived those incremental drifts created new ones over time that combined and expelled to become their own unique flavors, if you will, that we have now. The scroll is a marker of such a time that included our kind more open among it. I can and will tell you some of the folklore on that scroll that references Cahriah. -”

“- That is why I am here. -” Sherlock leaned back in his seat and prepared himself for a tale.

He felt the pull at his waist.

_Oh joy, I’m going to need maternity pants and trousers soon. And the twins want to eat._

“- Before we get started can we break for a meal? -” Sherlock placed a hand on his abdomen. “- A certain little pair are apparently peckish. -”

“Oh, certainly. I could use a bite to eat myself. -” The storyteller happily agreed. “- We are above ground. What does your alpha like, let me order. I know a restaurant that delivers and the food is delicious. – “

“- Excellent. Thank you. -” Sherlock “- John likes flavor, spicy. -”

“- Things that bite back? Understood. -” Juan pulled out his phone and called. When he was done he looked to Sherlock. “You took pictures, Sherlock. Can you bring them up? I will tell you some of what I recognized on the scroll.”

“- Yes. Let me transfer it to my tablet for the larger screen. -”

“- Excellent idea, but then you know that. -” Juan watched as Sherlock made the switch.

“- Yes, I do. -”

“- You are an unusual man and a most unique omega. -”

“- That is something I have been told from time to time. -” Sherlock flicked his eyes to Juan.

“- It is not said in judgement. Mere observation. -” The cuentista held up a hand in truce “That which makes you who you are. Your intellect. The mix with your alpha. Your bond, even your blood.”

“- An old woman at the airport also commented on my blood. -”

“- Did she, now? -” Juan seemed amused.

“– Ah, you know her. –” Sherlock placed the tablet in front of Juan.

“- I do. -” Juan pointed at the picture of the mark oh the scroll that resembled John’s birthmark. “- Do you know what this is called? -”

“- Yes. Cahriah’s Kiss. -” Sherlock nodded taking the hint on the quick change of subject.

“- It is called that for a reasons. And it is obvious when one thinks about one goes about it, the thing is the man thinks about it, is the _canid lycaon_ we’re said to evolve from do not. -”

_Canid Lycaon – dogs, coyotes, wolves…?_

Sherlock looked at the man quizzically.

_He is saying Lycan do not think as humans do._

Sherlock looked at the picture.

“- I am missing something aren’t I? -”

“- Yes. -” Juan nodded “- It became part of the Cahriah tale most are told as children, but then forget because it is just a fairytale after all. -”

“I would have deleted the tale from my mind, if ever I was told. My family is not one for the telling of tales unless scientifically based. I cannot imagine Mummy or my brother reading such to me.” Sherlock admitted.

“- I find myself surprised. -” Juan deadpanned. Sherlock looked to the man curiously for a moment and then smiled to show he understood the jest. 

“- It also said that it is where Judas Iscariot, an alpha not happy with the idea of submitting and following another, got the idea. -” the cuentista continued.

“- To betray Christ with a kiss? Cahriah was betrayed by a kiss? -” Sherlock frowned, “I think I need to be refreshed on the tale. It is a good thing I happen to have a cuentista near me. -”

“- It is -” Juan laughed. “- This scroll tells end of the tale of Cahriah. Have a seat and let me start from the beginning. -”

> Cahriah was a master race of Alpha.
> 
> Aemilus Cahriah, for whom the race was named, was an Alpha of unusual strength, speed and agility. He was not considered classically handsome, but there was something about him that made everyone take note. He also had a certain madness that was always there just under the surface.
> 
> A natural-born fighter and leader, no one was surprised that it was Aemilus who lead King Dalryc’s army against the potential usurper Roab. His might and charm were renowned. His modesty false and was borderline arrogant. Yet it was tolerated for there was none better. When Aemilus’ army defeats Roab’s he brings the usurper’s head on the dead king's own scepter. Aemilus’ boon from a grateful Dalryc? To be exempt from the laws that let him bond with only one omega.
> 
> It was such a small request Dalryc granted it, but with the caveat Aemilus can only bond as many omegas he can rightfully afford to take care of in a manner befitting a man of his status. A status to which Aemilus had become quite accustomed. Aemilus never had more than four omegas of either sex in his home at any given time. Moritz, Cahriah’s first omega and the one who understood him most was the only constant. Once bored of a specific omega, Aemilus would simply grant them their freedom to go with any alpha they chose or make do the best they can. The problem was there was something about Aemilus, even after severance - which only the departing omega felt- no other alpha could successfully override the pheromones of any omega bonded by him. A couple of omegas died before the successor alphas learn to accept without bonding. Once his, they remained his. It was solely Aemilus’ lack of interest in them once cast aside that allowed the omegas to stay with the new alphas they chose.
> 
> Rumors of Aemilus’ cruelties were beginning to spread, but the incidences only seemed to happen with the king’s enemies and the occasional alpha that tried to challenge Aemilus himself. Still the whispers were rumors, nothing more. Aemilus fights several of King Dalryc’s battles helping to increase the land the king rules as well as becoming one of his most trusted advisors and aide du camp. Those closest to the seat of power begin to realize that while he acknowledges his place, for all intents and purposes Aemilus is running the land in all but name. As long as he was not a threat to King Dalryc himself, the other advisors said nothing. That is exactly how Aemilus wanted it. Only his first and favored omega Moritz knew what Aemilus was doing and how. Moritz was invoked to silence, there was nothing he would ever say about his Alpha.
> 
> It came to pass that King Dalryc disagreed with a course of action as suggested by Aemilus. It started as a disagreement one afternoon. Within a week it became a very loud and very public argument where Aemilus dared to cross the line and publicly insulted the king in the throne room. Outraged and humiliate by Aemilus’ behavior, good friend, most trusted aide de camp and advisor notwithstanding, King Dalryc could not let such a blatant disrespect stand. He ordered a guard to arrest Aemilus. The guard did not move, nor the next guard, nor the next. Aemilus turned to the king and openly challenged him, stating how the Dalryc misunderstood exactly who was in power.
> 
> Nothing is more patient than an evil plan lying in wait to be sprung. The time had come.
> 
> Aemilus smiled evilly as more than half of the king’s guards and knights came to attention at his unspoken command, then went into a berserker frenzy killing any alpha whose scent did not have the Cahriah’s imprint.
> 
> With Aemilus’ sword to his throat, Dalryc watched it all unfold.
> 
> But Aemilus Cahriah was not through.
> 
> At his silent invoke Gundelinde was brought forward. Her guards and ladies, all belonging to Aemilus, were bloodied in the fight to escort her to the throne room. She was an omega in heat not to leave her rooms until they were over.
> 
> And Aemilus had her brought into the throne room full of fighting Alphas.
> 
> Dalryc’s stared in horror as his wife sat on her throne being driven as mad by all the Alpha pheromones in the air calling to her, but none touching her to alleviate her need. He watched as her slick pooled and stained her gown dark. All he had to do to protect her was give up his crown.
> 
> Dalryc could not.
> 
> Not even for the queen he loved.
> 
> Gundelinde guards were all alpha males. All had committed some egregious crime usually punishable by death. These were the ones who were offered a chance to die like an alpha or live as a mute eunuch to protect the queen and her retinue. Gelded and canine teeth pulled, they were guaranteed to protect her, but never be able to molest or bond her or any of her omega ladies when in heat.  They were what protected Gundelinde now as they killed any alpha who attempted to approach her.  Even as she stripped her garments under Aemilus’ invocation and presented.
> 
> Aemilus had purposely kept the senior advisors, not all of whom were under his command, off to the side – watching – but away from the bloodbath. They heard it loud and clear when Dalryc finally capitulated. What he would not do for his own wife, he did for his firstborn. Apio and Adongo , twins, an alpha female and omega male in their early teens were brought into the room by Moritz.
> 
> Moritz was stunned by the mayhem being played out before him. He was appalled as Aemilus made the siblings stand on the sides and watch their mother writhe on the floor against her throne begging for her husband, her guards and anyone to take her. The twins, both young and having recently expressed, were unable to help themselves. The son, Adongo, became erect and started to slick from all the alpha pheromones raging in the room including from his sister beside him. The daughter, Apio, also became visibly erect and went into rut under the scent of both her brother and her mother’s need. Having nowhere else to turn the siblings turned to each other sobbing, in a need they were not prepared to resist, the mistake of which about to become imminent.
> 
> Moritz begged Aemilus to spare the teens. Dalryc had given up the crown there was no need for this. Mate the queen on the throne in front of all to show who now rules the lands he helped create into a nation, but the teens were innocents. Moritz, his first omega and the only being Aemilus could come close to saying he loved agreed. The twins were separated from each other just as the alpha had turned to her brother, mouth open to bite and claim her sibling.
> 
> Cahriah commanded his own to ceasefire. By then the number of the living in the room had more than halved. Those not under his command understood a coup had happened when Dalryc stood and publicly abdicated the throne to Aemilus Cahriah. Dalryc slid forward on the throne, stood, removed the crown from his own head, placed it on Aemilus and stepped aside.
> 
> Aemilus was an alpha, the best among them, but not even he was immune to an omega’s call. Gundelinde writhed on her throne beside the one in which he now stood in front. She all but climbed on him as she tried to hump the hilt of his great sword. He ordered the guards to kill Dalryc if he interfered with his taking of the queen. He opened his trousers grabbed Gundelinde and impaled her in one fluid in to the shock of everyone. Gundelinde keened in relief. Aemilus had not seen a look exchanged between Dalryc and Gundelinde.

“- And that was his mistake. Here is where the scroll comes. -” Juan pointed to a section. “- These motifs represent Dalryc and Gundelinde and their thrones. If you think of these lines here as panels in a modern comic strip... -”

“- So if this represents Cahriah, then this is Moritz? -” Sherlock pointed at another symbol joined by lines.

“- Yes, it is. -” Juan nodded then pointed at something else further down the scroll, “- But then so is this symbol. -”

“- It looks like the same symbol but flipped on its horizontal as one would flip an M to make a W, or the reverse… -” Sherlock zoomed-in on the detail.

“- Funny you should say that, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me finish the story and show it to you along the way. I think you will figure it out before I complete it. -” Juan moved the view to another section of the scroll and continued. 

> “Gundelinde, as deep in the throes of heat as an omega can get without dropping, never forgot who she was.
> 
> She was still queen. A queen who like her husband would do nearly anything to keep the crown.
> 
> Even naked and in need, she had writhed against the side of Dalryc’s throne and on the floor in front of it, she bent over it to present when Cahriah took her.
> 
>  Aemilus trapped in his own ecstasy thought nothing of Moritz assisting him to remove his cloak and shirt. It’s what Moritz has always done for his alpha when mating other omegas.
> 
> Without letting go of Gundelinde he turned and Mori… -”

“- Wait. -” Sherlock held a hand up.

The omega felt _off_. A tenseness gripped him.

“{Alpha?}”

_Where is John? He should have been back by now._

The twins moved, making their hunger known just as there was a knock at the door.

“- Sherlock? -” Alcantara stopped in his tale as he noted the omega’s agitation.

Just then the tenseness became a full-on panic as he was hit with his alpha’s _Rage – Protect – Fear_   combined in two words.

_“{SHERLOCK RUN!}”_

Sherlock was up and out of the chair that crashed to the floor as he sped for the door and yanked it open.

A tall male, slightly taller and stockier in build than Sherlock, stood in the door.

An alpha.

Sherlock found himself trapped in a pair of familiar piercing blue eyes. The man’s blond, almost platinum hair was shorter than the last time the consulting detective had laid eyes on him, over two years ago.

"Hello, Sherlock."

 “Victor‽‽‽”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do like you readers - I swear I do!


	56. Subjects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha John Watson awaken to find himself kidnapped and at the mercy of a face from the past who has no mercy. Still, all he wants to know is where is his omega Sherlock Holmes.

Watson woke up earlier than they expected.

_Again._

{SHERLOCK!}

_Still no answer._

_Again._

He brought his focus back to his surroundings.

“- I have only seen work like this on the alpha that was here a few years back. -“

_I’m still in the lab._

The lab was hexagon in shape. Its aqua glass walls blended seamlessly. It took John a good five minutes to discern which panel held the exit. Not that it mattered as he learned it opened via retinal scan.

Watson wanted to turn his head away from the bright lights overhead. Lights so bright that he could see the red of his blood coursing through his closed eye lids.

His military training made him keep still to observe his surroundings first.

“- Arroyo is insane if he thinks this alpha’s blood is going to work any better than the rest. –“

The voices speaking was behind him. He chanced cracking open his eyes lids. No one was in view. He slowly angled his head slightly away from the voices and lights before he opened his eyes slightly more.

“- Arroyo is insane period. And either we get him what he wants or he kills our families. -”

Family.

_Sherlock! Our pups!_

{SHERLOCK!}

_No answer. Again._

All he knew for a certainty was that the omega was alive. It was a comfort.

_Christ, I hope you heard me and got the hell out of there in time._

After John killed Ernesto, he woke up semi-alphastrained in the lab. His upper arms, wrists and ankles were restrained. The restraints were electronic and strong. His head was not braced, but he did have a ball gag. Not enough to choke on his own saliva lying down, but enough that he knew trying to speak was pointless as his muffled words were ignored. He could flex, but he was not going anywhere. He was attached to a catheter, an IV of nutritional fluids were being administered and his blood being drawn into two separate pint bags.

This was not the first time he had awakened this way. He was no longer sure of the days. He had been bathed, but not shaved. Serving on missions in the military were shaving was not a priority, he estimated a week by itch of his beard growth.

He tried to reach out to his omega again, but felt nothing. He had no idea what that meant. Was he too far away again? Was he being blocked again?

_Where are you that you do not answer?_

It is the thought he has had each time he’s awakened.

John scented at two alphas and six betas that milled about conversing. The two closest to him were conferring about the dangerous test subject.

“- Have you read his military records? His kill count when they let him loose…? -”

That snapped John to attention, as the last of the cobwebs cleared out and his mind came into sharp focus with the realization that _dangerous test subject_ was him.

Watson heard a door open. He closed his eyes fully again.

_Heavy footsteps. Likely a male. Definitely an alpha._

John heard as the person approached the exam table where he lay, then whistled a code loudly. All conversation in the room ceased. John realized it was someone he knew.

_He knows I’m awake._

Watson opened his eyes.

_Well shite._

A tall, solid built alpha stood above him. Dark blond hair, blue-eyed, rugged jaw. He wore military issue camouflage trousers and a black tee that seemed to emphasize his mass. This was the physical epitome of an alpha soldier.

This was a soldier that Watson hoped he would never cross paths with again, yet always knew he would one day.

_Just not like this._

The soldier lit a cigarette. One of the technicians in the room cleared their throat in obvious disapproval. It was also obvious the soldier did not care. He blew a long plume of smoke in the technician’s direction as he pressed a button by John’s head. He grabbed a handle and pulled the table until John was in an upright position and removed the gag.

John knew who he dealt with and braced himself for it.

The soldier brought the lit cigarette down slow. Infinitely slow. Watched the glowing red end descended infinitely close to the scar at his left shoulder. John felt the heat of it before the soldier ground the cigarette into his scarred shoulder. He refused to cry out.

“Alphastrained is a beautiful thing, but it really does take all the sport out of it.” The soldier sighed deeply as though bored. “Ah well. Perhaps when it’s time for you to die, I can convince Arroyo to set you free to see what we’re still made of.”

He admired the burn mark as he brushed the ashes away. “Hello A63-710908, it’s always such a delight to see you, Captain Watson.”

John sniffed a quiet laugh at that as he looked at the man.

“Why hello A63-770402, just peachy, isn’t it, Colonel Moran?”

John remembered Sebastian Augustus Moran well. He was intelligent and belligerent, and constantly just a hair on the wrong side of the rules when they served together and he had flaunted it. Being the best sniper and one of the top hand-to-hand combatants for Crown and Country – “That’s “country” without the o’” as the former soldier would quip from time to time - had its privileges. Privileges that chose to ignore the alcohol and the drugs and the fighting and the rumors of other things as long as the soldier hit his targets when pointed to them. He was a ticking time bomb and no one, absolutely no one was surprised when he finally crossed the line just a little too far and the army was forced to give him the boot.  

Three gouge marques scored across his features from the right side of his face to the left. Two more scored from the other direction. Marques of shame. Violent crimes of an alpha against an omega.

_Good plastic surgery. It would take a doctor to tell that they were marques.  A doctor - or Sherlock._

Watson himself was responsible for giving the sniper two of the three that went from right to left. The first existed, when they met. Watson was also responsible for a vicious bite mark on the neck when the two of them had their inevitable clash. To be fair, John was left with a couple of scars across his back as well from the altercation that had them both hospitalized. It was the only time John conceded to a draw.

“I see you’ve added to the collection since we last danced.”

“I see you’re still a sassy bastard. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

 “Well, since it looks like I’ll be lagging about here for a little while, want to shoot the breeze?”  From the way John stretched in the restraints one would have thought the alpha was reclined on a poolside chaise, not strapped down on a table in a lab.

Moran barked a laugh.

“ _A little while_? Oh, you have no idea A63-710908. Try the rest of your life. And it’s either going to be a very brief or a very, very long one, Boss hasn’t decided yet.” He smiled down coldly on John.  “Guess it depends on your blood work, but initial tests look promising that you’ll be suffering for a long, long, long time.”

John was not quite sure yet which length he’d prefer. He had to keep Sebastian talking.

_Sebastian always liked to boast when he thought he was safe._

“But in your case instead of pumping things in you, they are taking things out.”

_Taking things out?_

It was a shot in the dark, but John went with his gut instinct.

“And pumping them into omega males?”

_Oh, brilliant! That knocked the smirk off his face._

Sebastian cut his eyes at John.

_Bingo._

“Told Boss you are a smart fucker. He wants to empower omegas. Especially the males. Tired of them being treated like 4th class citizens. He wants to level the playing field if you will. He learned there are rare alphas that when they bond they “boost” their omegas.”

_You didn’t!_

He saw John’s face and smirked. “Fine. I admit I told him about that omega nurse and the alphas involved which included you.”

> When John served with the Army he performed an infield emergency transfusion to Christian Leary a male omega nurse hurt badly in a gun fight including using his own blood. Alpha’s can donate to omegas, but not the other way around. John’s mind immediately flashed back to the chaos of administering a transfusion in the near dark, noise and chaos of a of battle that broke out in the process. A63-770402, in medical for a laceration on his arm was one of the snipers that protected them until they could finish and move to a secure location. John remembered the alpha was more than willing to pull the IVs out of the nurse’s arm. “Collateral happens, doctor. One life for six!” Doctor Watson absolutely refused to give up on his patient and did not listen.
> 
> In the end it took transfusions from four alphas, but it was a successful field transfusion. Being an omega, Christian healed cleanly and in a much faster time than a beta would have in the same situation. As he healed Christian noticed his reflexes and strength had improved. There had always been word the odd alpha who can donate their blood and the recipient gets a slight boost, but eventually it fades within a couple of weeks. A month later Christian Leary never lost his boost. By then Watson was deployed on another mission. He found out about it when they tried to locate all the soldiers who donated, and never got to him. Not able to identify which alpha truly replicate the circumstances, eventually, Leary’s permanent boost became just one of those inexplicable things that happened in life. The omega considered himself lucky. Still it is the military. The entire incident was wrapped as a classified. Information never to be released to the public.

“That was a D-Notice.”

“I don’t work for Lizzy anymore. Shoot me.” A63-770402 snorted. He narrowed his eyes at approaching footsteps. John turned his head as a tech came over and removed the bags then put bandages on the puncture points.

_I wonder just how many pints of my blood they have taken. I do not feel particularly weakened, yet._

The former soldier started speaking again as the tech walked away.

“Boss located other possible candidates who had the ability. Six years ago, he found a female alpha who willing to work with him. She had boosted her male omega and it lasted. The rest of the alphas my Boss' associate put agents on, just in case he needed them. It seemed like he was on the brink of something, but the alpha he worked with died in a freak hiking accident at least four years ago and it could not be replicated. None of the other alphas he had worked out. In the interim he has tried synthetic versions. Most did not work out.”

John's brows furrowed at the confirmation.

_His boss has been at this for at least six years.  The omega murders have been happening for six years._

Several thoughts went through John’s mind.

[ _“- …alpha anciano… -”_ ]

[ _“You are kind.”_ ]

[ _“…on the brink of something….”_ ]

[ _“…four years ago.”_ ]

A63-770402 quieted as he saw Watson’s thoughtful expression. “I remember that look on you. What?”

“The one time it sort of worked. That was Miami with the _El Beso_.”

A63-770402 startled, “Sometimes, you are too smart for your own good.”

_That’s why the batches kept changing. Different alpha’s different enzymes, pheromones, but nothing that would show up in a data file because we’re all unique._

“So, I’m a lab rat.”

“Yes. Yes, you are Pinky.”1 A63-770402 smirked.

It took a couple of seconds for John to get the reference, but once he did he gave A63-770402 serious side-eye “Pinky? Really? Why do I have to be Pinky?”

“Oh, you are intelligent. I will give you that, Watson.” Moran’s grin was pure evil and John knew he was not going to like what came out of the sniper’s mouth next.

Sebastian Moran pulled John’s bracelet from his pocket and showed it to him as he leaned in close just for John to hear.

“But I’ve met that gorgeous mouthy omega of yours, Watson. He knows how I like to be sucked-off. He calls me Gus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A63** – A - Alpha + 63 - year of my birth.  
>  **710908 & 770409** Martin Freeman and Michael Fassbender’s birthdays respectively in year/month/day format.
> 
>   
>  **Pinky** – A character from the cartoon “Pinky  & the Brain”. Part of the intro lyrics state “one is a genius, the other’s insane” Pinky was the latter part.  
> <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e_mPrhwpZ-8>
> 
>  
> 
> ^Return to paragraph^


	57. Captured by the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Omega Sherlock Holmes do or say when confronted with his former alpha - an alpha believed to be dead - when he now belongs to Alpha John Watson?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I am late posting - it's been something of...a day.

“Hello Sherlock.”

“Victor‽”

Sherlock stood at the door completely dumb struck.  

The pale blue near translucent eyes were as he remembered, but never this cold. His mind mentally erased the burn scars that covered most of the left side and a part of the right side of the face and neck. The being in front of him looked like Victor, but that was it. His stance, the way he held himself, his scent was somewhat different.

There was little of the man Sherlock Holmes once knew.

Nothing of the man Sherlock Holmes once loved.

_How‽_

It was one of the few times in his life that the mind of William Sherlock Scott Holmes came to complete end stop.

His heart unable to accept the reality in front of him.

And yet everything in Sherlock’s being understood that this was in fact Victor Gabriel Trevor.   

A realty that lifted the gun he held and fired a shot into the room.

There may have once been questions of when Juan Diaz Alcantara arrived onto this earth…

…After one hundred and four years, there will be no question of when he departed from it.

That snapped Sherlock out of it.

He brought a sharp elbow to Victor’s jaw as he snatched the gun by the barrel and yanked it from the alpha’s hand sending it sliding down the hall.

Still, as fast as Sherlock knew he was now, he still dealt with an alpha. Victor twisted towards Sherlock with another gun drawn and shoved the barrel at his abdomen.

Sherlock froze.

“I was told to pick you up and bring you in alive. No one said shite about unharmed. Don’t test me.” Victor snarled in Sherlock’s face “And just so we understand each other, yes, I am the type to harm an omega – even a pregnant one. Do anything stupid like that again and your alpha will _never_ see his pups. Now _slowly_ take your cell phone out of your pocket, hold it out and then let it drop it to the floor.” Sherlock reached in his pocket a little too fast and felt the barrel press harder “I said slowly!”

Sherlock withdrew the mobile in his pocket, held out his arm and let it drop. Victor used the gun to back Sherlock away before he shot the mobile and had had the gun pointed back at him. “Now move!”

"{Alpha?}"

Sherlock tried repeatedly to reach out to John to no avail. All he knew for sure was that John was not dead.

_He must be tranquilized. I'm on my own._

Sherlock and Victor were two blocks away when he heard the first sirens headed for the library.

_I am sorry Juan. You were innocent in this._

Victor said nothing as he escorted Sherlock at hidden gunpoint to a sidewalk café where they took seats. The two appeared as any other tourists that enjoyed a sunny afternoon.

Sherlock knew with a certainty that his brother did not know. As cold and cutthroat he knew his brother to be to others, he had no doubt of Mycroft's love for him. Mycroft would never be this cruel. He put his brother out of his mind.

Sherlock studied the man who sat in front of him. At least the body. It was assuredly the body of Victor Gabriel Trevor. Sherlock had spent many years loving every centimeter of him to doubt it. It was disconcerting to look upon him so dispassionately as the stranger inside the transport of his erstwhile alpha.

"{Alpha?}"

A mobile pinged and Victor gave a curt nod. He signaled a waitress and ordered a coffee for himself and a club soda for Sherlock.

His Victor never drank coffee.

_This is not your Victor, Sherlock._

"You called me Victor. Why?"

“Is that not your name?” Sherlock's eyes narrowed. “Victor Trevor?”

“It is, but as I had yet to introduce myself… I wondered.”

"It was reflex. That was the name of a man I once knew. You… reminded me of him."

 _He knows me but not because he knows_ me _. He was told of me – told to expect it. He does not know who I am, who we were._

The omega squeezed his eyes shit for a moment as he wrangled the cacophony of emotions that flitted through him.

"Interesting..." Victor spoke.

"What is?"

"My employer seemed certain you'd tell me something he thought would be interesting to me. I thought it would be something mind-blowing, but I guess not.” Victor seemed amused.

_Ah, someone who knows me, knows our past, has taunted him, but has not told him._

“He's rarely wrong.” Victor shrugged. “Nice to know he’s not completely infallible.”

_Really? Who does this employer think he is, Mycroft? It is someone, like my brother? They are the only ones who could move so quickly and quietly past his notice._

“And your employer is?” Sherlock asked instead.

“Trust me, Arroyo is not someone you want to rush to meet.” Victor said in a manner that make Sherlock take note. Something familiar caught his attention. He casually scanned the area again.

_Eleven o’clock across the street. Two o’clock at the indoor table, likely more at my seven. Plus, a camera._

“But you are taking me to meet him nonetheless.”

Eventually.” Victor smirked. “Boss’ orders.”

“Amnesia. At least two years…?” Sherlock, still in shock at the sight of his very much alive former alpha could not help himself. “Car accident, fire partially damaged your vocal chords. You can yell, but maybe cannot scream without pain.”

“How the hell…?” He looked startled. “Oh, right. My boss warned that you were really good at reading people.”

“Is it also your boss’ orders that there are several guns pointed at me to ensure I do not attempt escape. Does he not trust you to take care of a pregnant omega alone?” Sherlock nodded to the waitress as the coffee and club soda were placed in front of them.

Victor’s eyes crinkled at the obvious ploy. His eyes for a moment flicked to the side before he smiled. It is a smile Sherlock knew well. It was the smile Victor gave mass surveillance cameras when he remembered they were being watched.

_Ah, two cameras then, are they live feed or simply recording. They want us to be seen together._

“{Alpha?}”

“What are you doing?” Victor’s hand under the table shifted slightly. Sherlock knew the relaxed hand had firmed its grip on the gun hidden under the napkin on his lap.

“Posing for the camera.” Sherlock gave a little head bop as though listening to music and gave the camera off across the street from him the forks. He turned in his seat and did the same for the camera behind him before facing Victor again.

“Oh, Arroyo is correct. You are a right insufferable bastard.” Victor idly rubbed the scarred flesh at his throat. He was about to say more when his mobile pinged again. The phone was too close to the edge of the table Victor had to reach for it as it buzzed off the edge. The moved changed the angle of his gun hand.

Sherlock shoved and flipped the table as he stood.

The momentum shoved Victor to the floor.

Sherlock leaped over the barrier and ran.

_I’m sorry! Daddy’s sorry! Stay with me please!_

He ignored the shot that was far too close along with the screams and yelling in his wake as he spotted three others on the run to catch him.

“{ALPHA!}”

Sherlock did not expect an answer anymore, but he kept trying as he ran.

He saw a policeman at the far corner and ran towards him.

“- Officer! Help me! I’m a tourist! Those men are trying to… -”

The policeman looked past Sherlock and saw the men running behind him.

Sherlock stopped short when the officer drew his revolver on him. He did it in a way that Sherlock knew _el policía_ , at least this specific officer, belonged to Arroyo.

_Who is this Arroyo?_

He saw as Victor caught up. The three others not far behind.

Sherlock was fast. He knew it.

He also knew they wanted him alive.

Sherlock spun on Victor and brought his former alpha down to his knees.

The stranger in Victor’s body reflectively held up an arm to ward off his attack.

Sherlock didn’t think.

He bit.

Hard.  

His teeth sank into Victor’s wrist.

There was a moment’s disorientation and a strange heady, feeling as Sherlock reached for Victor’s throat and froze.

In all his years, never before had he seen his own claws unsheathed.

Omegas claws only come out in desperation or in defense of their mate and/or their children. Yes, Sherlock Holmes has had to physically fight his way out of some situations when words failed; but he had never been this desperate before for it to happen.

The shock seeing the glossy thick curved darkened nails was enough to remind him why.

“- On your knees! Now! -”

Sherlock was fast, yes, but not fast enough to outrun three guns at pointblank range as he felt the barrel of a gun at his head. They may not want him dead, but there was a lot of leeway of what can happen before death.

Sherlock had always presumed his life would end violently, likely at someone’s bullet. When it was just his life he would have chanced it, but he had three other lives to worry about.

The twins and John’s. He knew that his death would cause severance and John would feel all three.

_I have no idea where you are my alpha I cannot risk that severance could put you in more jeopardy.  
_

Were it solely John, Sherlock still might have thought harder about fighting out knowing his alpha would survive a severance, but this was not about John.

He lowered himself to his knees for the two who absolutely cannot live without him.

 _You will feel your Papa again, I promise. You will_ meet _him._

“You bloody son of a...!” Victor was not happy as he snatched his arm from Sherlock’s mouth and reared back to swing.

Sherlock was not surprised when he saw stars and blackness.

  
Art Credit:[ "20120424" by xxxxxx6x - DeviantArt](http://fav.me/d4y2mqj)


	58. Styx and Acheron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the years Omega Sherlock Holmes was 'taught' what to expect, how to think in certain circumstances. None of them prepared him for real thing - especially when gravid.

When Sherlock came to his first thought was Mycroft was playing a pantomime on him again. The elder Holmes brother had done so a few times before.

The then thirteen-year-old wanted his younger sibling to know what it felt like when emotions overwhelm ones who think as they do. He was disappointed that it took the panicked boy nearly thirty minutes before he calmed down enough to assess the situation. However, once Sherlock deduced exactly what was going on, Mycroft was duly impressed by how many curses and insults, in several languages, the furious six-year-old knew. It was done again when Sherlock was sixteen with Victor in tow as an added stressor. Mycroft found himself having to rescue his own people when an anonymous voice left Fed-Ex tracking numbers on his voicemail. Still, he did it again when Sherlock was twenty-three. It was at the height of Sherlock’s drug use while Victor was abroad. The younger Holmes brother was in the midst of a blissful high when he was kidnapped. It took him sixteen minutes to figure what was going on and another seven to work his way out of the restraints in his drug infused haze. Taking the influence of narcotics in his brother’s system into consideration, Mycroft thought it worth the shiner he later sported for nearly a week to learn how his brother would conduct himself in an emergency even when under the influence.

Sherlock would not have put it past Mycroft to stage such a scene as this, but he was not sure what to think about that for this was extreme even by his brother’s standards considering his pregnancy. 

His mind felt slow, not the bliss of being high.

_Because I’m not._

_No, this certainly is not Mycroft’s doing._

That was when reality finally inserted itself and he snapped awake.

_Not my drugs. Tranquilizers. My pups!_

Whatever tranquilizer they used had left him somewhat groggy. He hoped it was not having an impact on the pups.  He could feel them move from time to time and had to take solace in that.

“{Alpha!}”

_Nothing…_

Sherlock had not expected a response. Each time he awakened – this was the third that he remembered - he tried to reach out only to receive the same nothingness. Feeling the loss of contact from the other point of view, he certainly owed his alpha an apology.

Each time he awakened he was somewhere different.

When he first came to, it was blindfolded and in a vehicle going over hilly terrain. Terrain he verified as hilly and a forest of some type when he had tried to make a break for it. He had taken two of them down, but while he was faster than the betas, he did not know the lay of the land and Victor the sole alpha in the group quickly caught him.

When he awakened again he was in chains and secured to a chair. They had removed every article of clothing that had a tracer. Even the imbedded chip in his back was gone. He had felt the slight pain in the aftermath of its removal. His mask wearing captors were silent and could not be goaded into a response, regardless of their obvious agitation of his brutal deductions. Using hobblers so he could not run, they pantomimed - at gun point - for him to use a windowless washroom that gave him no hint of his location.

They had fed him then and gave him water. He knew both were likely drugged, but Sherlock reluctantly ate as little as possible for the pups’ sake.

_Now I am here._

_Wherever_ here _is._

Eyes still closed Sherlock shivered, he had been stripped of jacket and shirt. They left him his trousers – the cuff and waist torn, undershirt, pants and socks.

Not hearing any discernible sounds, Sherlock slowly opened his eyes and turned his attention to the room.

A small dark room with windowless walls. The only light was via the four canned overhead lights that casted four beams of low light down to the concrete floor. His still hobbled feet were chained to the floor. His arms spread wide as he hung from chains secured to opposite walls. He faced one door. There was another behind him. He felt a slight chill on his bared skin. Otherwise, the room was empty.

_Cold. Damp. Underground?_

He had no idea where or when he was. He could not quite stand, nor could he kneel. He had no idea how long he was out, but from the ache in his arms he knew it had been a few hours. As he took it all in, a seed of unease seeped in.

When the door finally opened, Sherlock watched as two men in ornate dark hooded robes over well-tailored suits entered the room, one behind the other.

Two betas.

Though their hands were behind their respective backs, they moved alike in a tense manner. He could not see any weapons, but everything else about them screamed agents, one, an older man, held himself in a way that told Sherlock he was the leader of the two.

They each stood under a beam of light. As close as they were to him, their hoods shielded their faces well in the dimly lit room.

“Have I been sold or traded to some modern-day medieval cult or Illuminati hybrid?” Sherlock snarked.

“The bitch is awake. Good.” the one in the lead stopped before him to his left, the one who spoke to Sherlock’s right.

_Bitch?_

Sherlock frowned, his brain still murky from whatever they'd drugged him with. He hadn’t seen the man's hand move, but he felt the shock of the unrestrained force of it across his temple. He was certain he would've fallen over were it not for the restraints.

“What are you doing here?” This came from the man on his right; only the grim set of his mouth was visible.

Sherlock's head rung as much from the blow as the British accents. Their manner was hostile.

_Double Os? Definitely not my brother’s, so whose?_

A cloth was draped around his neck, but not to choke him. He wrinkled his nose at the scent and knew that was its purpose.

_Scent blockers. Still it’s using a scent I have smelled before but one I am not familiar with. Someone will enter that they do not want me to be able to deduce by smell._

Sherlock shook his head more in an attempt to clear it than a negative answer the question. He realized the mistake when the second blow came and then the third. His lip split and bled. Sherlock had opened his mouth to explain this was all a misunderstanding. That he was investigating mysterious murders when the words died unspoken. He glanced between his captors. He couldn't see their expressions, but their attitudes told him enough.

“If you answer nicely, this will go easier,” Right-side said cajolingly. “Because from here on each hit gets worse.”

To prove the point a pair of brass knuckles came out.

If they were who he thought, then they knew why he was in Peru. They knew who he was and struck him regardless. If they were not who he thought telling the truth would be tipping his hand. Another hit and the iron taste of blood filled his mouth. He turned his head and spat.

“Answer the question!” 

“The drugs you gave me…  Don’t… I don’t feel well.”

The one to the left gave a short nod to someone behind him.

Someone had entered from the door behind him when he was hit. He knew the entry was timed to happen when he had been struck and his attention momentarily diverted. 

He heard the crack and whoosh.

Before his brain could fully identify it, a searing pain laced his back and then another.

“Say anything other than that which answers the question an…”

“Anything other than that which answers the question.” Sherlock parroted.

“My God! You’re right, he really cannot help himself, can he?” Right-side paused and looked to his partner who nodded.

_He nods, but will not speak. He knows me. More important, I know him. He knows that I will recognize him._

Something with fire crisscrossed his back and Sherlock cursed. Alphas and Omega can feel the stings of regular whips, but they are just that, _stings_. The ruthless machine protected him from such. Whoever this was knew that and used something that could hurt their kind.

_I have crossed into Hades._

Because Sherlock learned at an early age how to mostly talk, and on occasion physically fight, his way out of most confrontations, he never thought to use it as a weapon. He learned he could reach the dangerous ranges when he accidentally damaged the ear drum of a fellow drug user during a bad trip. Most omegas don’t use it as a weapon for it effects everyone within hearing range including, the innocent.

_There are no innocents here except my own._

Sherlock screamed in harmonics on purpose.

Right-side immediately buckled, his hands over his ears.

Left-side fell to one knee, hands over his ears.

For the first time he knew of, it did not have exactly the desired effect as two more lines of fire opened across his back.

He understood moments later when Left-side used sign language to make his attacker stop.

Sherlock collapsed as much as he could the chains. The aches in his arms forgotten to those across his back. He could feel rivulets of blood slowly soaking into his trousers at the waist.

Slowly Left-side rose to his feet and helped Right-side. His hood had shifted and Sherlock realized they had come prepared for him.

_They are wearing headphones and the one behind me is deaf.  Harmonics may bring them down, but it will not incapacitate them._

“You fucking…”

Sherlock was focused on Right-side as the man raised his fist again. Sherlock knew from the angle it was going to be a gut shot and there was nothing he could do chained as he was.

| “You took a direct blow to the chest and barely flinched while under, but as soon as I brought you out you wheezed as expected. That can be an aid or a danger.” |

He braced himself for the impact and did the only thing he could think of to manage the potential pain.

_I’m sorry my loves, I can only hope this is an aide that protects you as well._

Sherlock dived into his mind palace.

<><> 

_You unexpectedly run your fingers gently along the side of my face and knowing me well, before I can think to question you about it, you place your lips upon mine and we kiss._

_Gently._  
Passionately.   
Tenderly.   
Hungrily.

_Alpha!_

_When we eventually pull away we are breathless as I open my eyes to the dark emptiness of my room._

_And realize it was only a dream_.

_Now, I lay awake undecided. Am I more afraid that I won't have that dream again..._

_...Or that I will?_

Dull aches in his left wrist bearing that bore the brunt of his weight pulled Sherlock out of his mind palace.

_The pups are fine. No other pain._

The expected hit had not in fact happened.

Sherlock opened his eyes and glimpsed a gold band. A gold band on the ring finger of the right hand. There were only five rings like such. Each had its own unique subtle striations that Sherlock had noted years ago. He had only met the man in passing once or twice before in passing. Still, he was aware of the type of power the man wielded. Only one person wielded more.

He immediately lowered his eyes. He did not want the owner of that specific ring to see that he spotted it.

The door opened and two more entered the room from the door directly behind him.

“What in the hell did you DO?” A voice yelled clearly upset by what he has walked into.

Sherlock blinked at the familiar voice and the all too familiar sound of a gun being drawn from its holster, but not by the same person who had spoken. A heavy body dropped and Sherlock knew it was whoever had whipped him. The two stepped forward, but still out of his line of vision.

_He didn’t know and he is NOT happy. I guess that is good. At least this part of the nightmare is over._

Now he knew why the scent in the cloth loosely draped around him was familiar, and yet not.

_I had only scented him that one time._

They were worried about scent. They did not consider that I would remember his lilt or other tells.

“Christ, Arroyo! Was that necessary? His precious litter is fine, I know you want the pups. I only had him …” Right-side never finished the sentence. A breeze brushed him and the barrel of a Glock knocked Right-side to the floor and his hood fell away. Sherlock did not recognize the agent, but memorized his face.

_Later._

Sherlock knew the hit was as much punishment as it was to stop Right-side from speaking.

“Thank you, Sebastian.” Arroyo said from behind him.

Sherlock looked up at the shadowed alpha. “Well, I knew your name was not actually Gus. Augustus diminutive? First or last?”

There was a moment of silence in the room before an amused snicker was heard as Gus-Sebastian stepped out of the shadows.

“First. But I prefer to be called by my second name same as you, Will. Or should I say _Sherlock_?”

The bespoke suited importer-exporter from the flight was gone. Now he wore khaki cargo pants, a black long sleeve tee and combat boots. He holstered the Glock under a light sports jacket. Sherlock noted he had another gun and at least two knives on him. The look suited him, but Sebastian was not his person of interest right then. After the last time they met, he knew the shorter man that entered with Sebastian would not be surprised, as well.

A hand reached out and raked across the wounds on Sherlock’s back in passing.

Sherlock snarled as he twisted in the chain to snap at the hand when he picked up a hint of another scent, even over the blocker.

_John?_

The pups moved. Sherlock knew he was correct then.

_I’m sorry loves._

“Arroyo? Brook.” Sherlock giggled. He knew he was borderline delirious as endorphins kicked in to dull the pain.

Sherlock turned his head in the man’s general direction behind him, “Where is my alpha, Brook? I scented him on you. This is hardly the way to make good on your words at El Enlace.”

“Oh good! Good!” Brook laughed as he walked up to Right-side who had just stood up again. He wiped his bloody fingers from having touched Sherlock’s back on the man’s face. Sebastian had a knife at Right-side’s throat before he could flex a muscle in reaction.

“What ever did he do to you to warrant this?” Brook asked, his head slightly askance as he looked at the man.

Brook then turned to Left-side. “Actually, I do not care about the games you are playing on your end. I told you he was not to be harmed unnecessarily. I am going to skinnnnn your man over there as an object lesson. And because you dared to disobey a simple request… let’s just say the happy domestic life you left, will be…less so...upon your return.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” the words were spoken, his fear of the veracity of Brook’s words was evident.

Brook merely smiled and said nothing, he gave a slight turn of his head to the door in blatant dismissal.

Brook reached into a pocket and handed Sebastian a syringe. “Unlock him and replace him with my soon-to-be new rug, he’s hirsute enough.”

Sebastian took the syringe and approached Sherlock.

Sherlock waited until Left-side was at the door before he spoke.

“My brother once told me the saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies. Not that you and he were ever friends – were you - Sir Edwin?”

Brook grinned impressed as Sir Edwin removed his hood and turned to reenter the room. His face was a mask of undisguised revulsion. Sherlock remembered his codename.

_Hello, Porlock._

Sebastian drew a gun on Sir Edwin. “You know I can and will.”

Sherlock recognized a lot of unspoken history between them as Sir Edwin stopped by the door.

“Your brother may even not find your body to bury you, Sherlock Holmes. I hope you know that.” He said to Sherlock, his voice a quiet promise.

“Perhaps.” Sherlock conceded “But first Victor and now me? Your family most certainly will not find yours.”

Sherlock got the satisfaction of seeing the bright flame of fear flash in the man’s eyes before he schooled his face and quietly left the room. Sebastian kept his gun pointed at the door until Brook closed it.

“Idiots! Were he not useful I’d just kill him.” Brook spat as he walked over and took the syringe from Sebastian.

“If you were worried, I formulated the tranquilizers for you myself. Your pups will be fine…” He uncapped the syringe.

“I was worried, thank you.”

“I may need your alpha. I may need your pups once they’re born. I don’t need you. You’re too deadly to have around. As for what happens to you after your pups are born? Sir Edwin may have a point. _It is a corpse, it is dust, it is shade, it is nothing_.” Brook continued as he depressed the plunger a little.

“As I told Sir Edwin – perhaps.” Sherlock tilted his head knowing what Brook was going to do.

“Actually, princess. I just thought of a better much idea.” Brook jammed the syringe in Sherlock’s neck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the non-Spanish speakers: _Rico_ means rich and is also a diminutive of name Ricardo. _Arroyo_ translates as a creek, stream or - you guessed it – brook. Rico Arroyo is Richard Brook.
> 
> “it is a corpse, it is dust, it is shade, it is nothing” - is from "Try to deny the praise that a portrait of the Poetisa inscribed the truth, which calls passion" by Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz.


	59. Dr. Watson - Monster Hyde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega Sherlock Holmes and Alpha John Watson are missing and Alpha Mycroft Holmes is about to learn a few things.

“There are issues that may affect the situation, Holmes.” Gareth looked as though he wanted to be anywhere else on earth, anywhere else in the universe at that moment than in a seat at that conference table.

“Oh, because there are not enough issues surrounding this as it were. Do tell.” Mycroft Holmes leaned forward. Though Gareth sat several feet away with a partial length of the conference table between them, the head of MI6 leaned back in his seat that put just that little more distance between himself and the enraged alpha before him.

_As though that miniscule amount of extra space would save you if I leapt across this table because I decided your throat belonged between my canines._

John Watson’s microchip went dead thirty--eight hours ago. Sherlock Holmes’ twenty minutes later. The agent driver assigned to them put out the emergency call when neither the omega nor his alpha had made the appropriate check-in after three hours. The chips went offline less than three hours after the driver made contact with headquarters.

Sherlock’s chip going dead was one thing. Those monitoring him were well aware of his brother’s penchant for going incognito. However, Watson only received his microchip thirty minutes before he took off for South America, the list of those who knew of its existence was less than five people. To the best of Mycroft’s knowledge exactly three had the codes to disable Watson’s chip and neither of them were John Watson or Sherlock Holmes.

Mycroft had not slept since he was first informed. He had Mummy immediately secured, not knowing how deep the threat. He most certainly was not in the mood for what was assuredly to be more bad news when this emergency briefing was called.

Peripherally, he caught the slight movement of Lady Elizabeth Smallwood’s pinky finger as it quietly tapped the table. She spelled out _BULLY_. He gave her a wolfish look, but sat back. Not that Mycroft appeared any less threatening for it and he knew it.

_Fine, I will not take it out on the messenger – yet._

He waved a hand for Gareth to continue.

Gareth spoke a date and time. Mycroft felt his blood run cold.

 _There is absolutely_ no _reason that information should so easily fall from his lips._

Mycroft raised a brow and waited for the rest of it.

“He was designated AR82-590417.” Gareth continued.

Mycroft had no idea what he gave away, but Lady Smallwood certainly noticed it and immediately knew.

“No!” She her pale eyes burned at the others.

Mycroft and Smallwood did not have to think hard about it, they knew.

“The initial retrieval may have been coincidental, which I am sure most here sincerely doubt, but the ongoing containment is a blatant strike.”

_Only our level would have the quick thinking and the means for such an extraction. Only he would act on it against me with someone so close. He took advantage of my preoccupation with my brother’s severance at the time._

Mycroft understood long ago even though he was deferred to as the head of the Ultra unit, each member was a check and balance against the other. Though _colleagues_ for nearly two decades the man’s dislike of their kind was a semi-open secret used as the balance against Mycroft as the sole of his kind in unit.  Mycroft tolerated Sir Edwin because while the man was indeed the enemy kept closer, he was also useful. Alphas and Omegas may be a very small part of the known global population, but there were factions of betas, like Sir Edwin, who hold a specific malice against them, specifically the alphas with their physical superiority. Then there were the ones who would just as soon hunt them down and make them extinct with the zeal of 18 th century witch hunters. They were a scant few in comparison, but always just enough to keep a weathered eye upon. Sir Edwin keep his eyes on the more zealot factions to secretly rile them as wanted and and Mycroft kept an eye on Sir Edwin to quell them as needed.

Still, Sir Edwin was an Ultra for a reason. Just as there are things that will not be known until long after Mycroft's bones were dust – if then - each member had their impenetrable secrets. Mycroft had not heard of the A63 project until it was set for termination. Even then, he could not get to the in depth details of what was involved. There were more recent rumors that the banned project continued. The confirmation of such and who was the latest inductee was…very disquieting.

Mycroft gave a mental deep sigh and looked to Gareth, “Who was the body double?”

“One of ours, downed in service in Shanghai the day before. The body type fit. It was fresh. The damage was done post mortem to match. From the look of things, the switch was made in the hospital. I was given physical stats to match and a twenty-four hour delivery, I was not aware of the source identity.”

_It is something I have done, but he has raised the stakes going after my direct family pack. Nonetheless, I know now and have a definite problem to solve._

The funeral was closed casket. Victor’s family had him cremated per the alpha’s wishes. Mycroft remembered he read death the certificate. Though burned over a good portion of his body in the head on collision with out of control full oil tanker that ignited, Victor Trevor’s physical body had clung to life for nearly 60 hours before it succumbed to injuries.

_Or so we were led to believe._

Mycroft could see in his mind’s eye exactly how the switch transpired.

In those first few days, Mycroft’s sole focus was on Sherlock who had gone into his mind palace. The hospital doctors having never dealt with such, presumed Sherlock had gone comatose from the severance. Anthea had confirmed it was indeed Trevor in the hospital when first admitted, gave him updates, but she was just as involved in keeping Mycroft’s normal business in check as his aide de camp in the interim. Neither checked that the remains that entered the crematorium were Victor’s. By the time he and Mummy represented the Holmes family at the funeral, the deed was already in motion. By the time Sherlock came back to the world, there was no thought to question it.

“Trevor was taken off the grid entirely. The staff that tended to him did not know his identity upon receipt. His face was mostly bandaged, when the bandages came off one of the staff recognized him and expressed dismay. The staffer…did not return to the project.” Wallace spoke to the table unable to look at Mycroft.

_He was neutralized._

Wallace continued, “The burns covered much of his body, the records say third and fourth degree burns, but most were second degree. Being an alpha, his physical recovery was expected. We did not know for sixteen days we were dealing with a blank slate until he was brought out of his induced coma. In retrospect, we should have surmised such by the omega's severance...”

Even in this modern day, no one has clearly understood how severance works between bonded couples. Part of it is mental, part physical. An unconscious mate does not activate it. Neither does a mate whose coma was medically induced for in both cases the conscious mate can still sense their partner. It takes anywhere from a few hours to a couple of weeks, but for an alpha or omega who falls into a coma naturally, it is almost always death sentence due to atrophy of the brain and body. The timing indicates Sherlock’s severance began moments after the crash. Meaning Victor must have slipped into a coma almost immediately, but then the doctors that treated him, had kept him under to help him heal.

_Perhaps being medically induced to stay while already under was the trigger? We’ll never know and frankly irrelevant now._

“…Parameters were given and executed accordingly as he physically healed. He accepted the _truths_ given him and performed accordingly. In fact, admirably.”

Mycroft raised an auburn brow at the man.

_They reprogrammed Victor to believe he was an assassin and it took._

He turned to the MI6 head. “You said there were issues. Plural. What else?”

Several folders were slid to Mycroft from the Royal Army representative. He flicked through the first two pages and closed the folder.

When Mycroft looked up, he gave veracity to his pseudonym of Iceman.

“Surely, you jest you ignorant fuck!”

The words were slow, clipped and full on glacier.

“Holmes!”

Mycroft’s head spun to Lady Smallwood in full frost. Smallwood’s PA had nearly taken flight to escape his cool glare. He was sure the only thing that had kept her seated in place, was the fear of losing her job. Lady Smallwood, having endured worse from Mycroft over the years, did not flinch as the beta woman whom Mycroft admitted had bigger balls than many alpha males he knew returned his glare with a glacier look of her own.

Lady Smallwood at Mycroft’s official invite, her PA, Anthea, the Minister of Defense, very high-ranking personnel of Her Majesty’s Royal Army, representatives from MI6 and two doctors sat at the conference table with him. All but the Army men were regulars at these impromptu meetings and understood the protocol of who’s who. Just as Smallwood’s PA sat just behind the woman, Anthea as always was behind him off his side right. Even she had put down her mobile in surprise at his outburst. He almost never cursed, let alone out loud and not in a meeting.

On any other day the ones gathered at the table would have wanted his help. Not today. Mycroft wanted information and he wanted it immediately. The files presented to him with far too many black bars across far too many lines on far too many pages was beyond an insult.

Mycroft simply ripped a page out and held it up as example. MI6 eyes went wide in surprise. The Minister of Defense gave a quick annoyed glance to the Army representative. Someone crossed a line and crossed Honor. It seriously damaged a political ploy in an Eastern Europe faction that snowballed into Antarctica’s bailiwick. It resulted in a shakeup in Army representation at their level. The Army general was new to his position with them and clearly did not know better than to try and insert the authority he did not have with Mycroft and Elizabeth of all people.

_Six months in a one our very cold and very foreign outposts should cement the lesson. I do not have time for this!_

He put out his hand to the Minister of Defense who glared at the General, who sighed and slid other folders under his hand towards Mycroft. The Iceman gave a curt nod to Anthea who came and picked up the folders with their pages of redacted statements and took them to the shredder in the faces of those who gave them to Mycroft. Mycroft quickly perused the information handed him. Most of the information there he just deduced at a superficial level. His eyes narrowed as the depth of details as he scanned quickly, then stopped, blinked and perused it slowly.

His hands came together under his chin as he absorbed the information.

_What has he wrought?_

When he finished with the first folder, he slid it to Lady Smallwood for her perusal as he opened the next. Someone peripherally started to complain. He barely looked up from the next folder he viewed as he raised a challenging brow. The complainant quieted.

Mycroft looked at the next report and blinked. That was not a name he expected to see.

_No wonder Anthea had trouble creating a complete profile._

Mycroft picked a random page and read part of a transcript.

> “How long has Subject: A63-710908 been under?”
> 
> “A little under an hour. It’s estimated he will be under the influence for at least two hours more.”
> 
> “Are you sure he knows the target?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> “God help you if you’re wrong. Release him.”
> 
> As Mycroft continued his reading, he saw they were wrong. So wrong.
> 
> Summary Report: Lt. Aaron Gerstone – full transcript of interview begins page 438.
> 
> Subject A63-710908 came out from the influence of the drug approximately forty-five minutes earlier than expected by best estimate. The subject had broached the gauntlet and taken down twenty-three insurgents before reaching the target. The first nine kills were core alpha bezerker kills. He ripped bodies apart until there was nothing to rip. During the tenth kill, a slowing of the heart rate was noted. A63-710908’s visual equipment failed at this point of the operation. Only outgoing audio and the heart monitor was operational on A63-710908.
> 
> The first indication there may be an issue was during the eleventh and twelfth kills. They were less wild, more concise kill. On the thirteenth, the subject ran up to the insurgent at his alpha speed and punched with such force the subject had to shake his hand a couple of times to dislodge the crushed skull from his fist. Then he reached the target.
> 
> A63-710908’s heartrate was normal as he toyed with the target at first. Toyed with him the way a cat toys with a mouse before the kill. It was a vicious reminder that A63-710908 was also a doctor and that knowledge was there when he methodically removed each digit from the target’s body. As he removed a digit, he cauterized the wound with an acetylene torch before moving on to the next digit. If the target passed out, he revived the target and then continued. Then he moved on to the major joints before he left. The target’s dismembered body was in thirty-four separate parts including decapitation when found.
> 
> Mission complete, it was taken to mean the subject was fully cognizant.
> 
> That was incorrect.
> 
> A63-710908 left the target location. A63-710908 was not expected to continue to hunt after the mission. That misjudgment was another eleven in collateral damage. A63-710908 certainly was not expected find an omega, kill that omega’s mate and claim the omega over the corpse of the deceased alpha. A63-710908 was still in coitus when recon the caught up. Sgt. Jeremy Spelling and Lt. Gerstone arrived on the scene first and gave the passphrase. A63-710908 growled in acknowledgement, but continued coitus with the omega until completion. The passphrase was repeated and A63-710908 withdrew. A63-710908 seemed unfazed by his actions as the omega rose and left the room with Sgt. Spellings help. Lt. Gerstone observed that A63-710908’s movements were not unlike how Cpt. Watson normally moved, but more fluid, sinuous. That is when Lt. Gerstone observed that A63-710908 was still in core. It was only the seventh time on record that an Alpha in core was also lucid.
> 
> SgJS: Hello?
> 
> A63-710908: Hello?
> 
> Lt. Gerston: What is your name?
> 
> A63-710908: A63-710908.
> 
> SgJS: Who are you?
> 
> A63-710908: Monster.
> 
> LtAG: You are aware?
> 
> A63-710908: Aware?
> 
> LtAG: Why are you bloody?
> 
> A63-710908: Fun.
> 
> SgJS: Do you consider over two dozen deaths fun?
> 
> A63-710908: Put the tranquilizers down and find out.
> 
> Lt. Gerstone noted after the fact that A63-710908 had visually tracked Sgt. Spellman’s movements upon his return. Sgt. Spellman, an alpha, would be considered the greater threat of the two men to A63-710908. It was a warning. One that both Sgt. Spellman and Lt. Gerstone missed.
> 
> A63-710908 attacked Sgt. Spelling. Spelling understandably dropped to core and defended himself as an alpha, but with the subject’s natural speed and agility now enhanced, the sergeant never had a chance.  A63-710908 was hit with a tranquilizer darts by Lt. Gerstone. The passcode was said again and A63-710908 stood down, but because A63-710908 was still feral and a danger, Lt. Gerstone immediately pumped two extra tranquilizer darts in him. Once A63-710908 was fully down Lt. Gerstone then called in for him to be alphastrained.

There were medical reports, interviews, status reports stemming nearly two decades. He gazed at photos in reports from multiple places globally. In each report it was essentially what had happened at King’s Hospital, but multiplied exponentially. In several cities, it had taken exams at the DNA/DNAAOET level to identify the all of the parts and match them.

_My god! He was a part of this? How dangerous IS he?_

Mycroft surreptitiously observed Smallwood as she looked through each folder he gave her. While he held his usual stoic manner, her appalment, fury and disgust were evident.

Mycroft slowly lifted his eyes to the MOD as he closed the last report.

“Is this still an issue?”

Mycroft knew the MOD had considered subterfuge for the briefest moment, but then remembered with whom he dealt.

“We doubt it.”

_Doubt. You are not sure. That is NOT answer I want to hear under the circumstances._

Mycroft turned his icy stare to one of the doctors. “Dr. Wallace?”

“Memories can resurface; wounds can re-open. The roads the subjects of that program roamed at unsanctioned operations have demons beneath. You’ve read A63-710908 referred to himself as a monster?” Mycroft and Smallwood gave small nods “Well his demons have been lying dormant for a _very_ long time. At discrete intervals agents were sent with specific triggers to update our records as to his mental condition. Until the incident a few weeks ago there has been no sign of it, but even that trigger was a normal alpha response given the situation. It cannot definitely be said to be indicative of…past actions.” 

Mycroft gave a curt nod as he accepted this and turned to the MI6 head, “Gareth?”

“He has given no indication of such in the spot checks we’ve given in the years since.”

“Spot checks?” Smallwood dropped the question with her own ice.

They all knew what Gareth meant. Mycroft understood her distaste was the use of casual colloquialism given the seriousness of the matter at hand.

Gareth visibly swallowed as he answered Smallwood, “Out of the initial dozen of the A63 program, only two of the subjects live. Those two, for different reasons, did not make permanent careers of the military. Of those two, we were only able to regularly monitor A63-710908. Subject A63-770402 fell off the radar about seven years ago. There were several rumored sightings globally over the years of incidents attributed to A63-770402, but none verified.”

“If what happened in Calais and Shanghai are two examples of those _incidents_ with that subject, Dr. Wallace, can it not be applied as a potential threat with the other subject?”

The incidents Smallwood named were not agency knowledge on the upper military levels. They were not in the files presented to them. The Royal Army general that had given Mycroft the redacted files then blanched as he glanced at Mycroft and Smallwood as he quickly put together the level of power that sat at the table.

_Ah, now you have an inkling of who we really are._

Lady Smallwood had voiced the question, but Wallace knew who needed the answer and turned his gaze to Mycroft. “Given his hot-tempered nature, for nothing else to have surfaced in all this time with A63-710908, we presume the subject is successfully dormant, Mr. Holmes.”

“You presume.” Mycroft repeated icily.

_One doubts. The other presumes. None can offer assurances._

“The subject is on a continent with several countries in which we do not have extradition should something go very wrong. We need more than presumptions.”  The minister stated.

“Two subjects are missing. Both wind up in the same locale. Something has already gone _very wrong_!” Mycroft snapped.

“Does Trevor know?” Smallwood slid the folders she had read back to Mycroft.

“No, A82-590417 did not know his birth identity.” Wallace responded.  “He was regularly monitored as well.”

“Did not know? Was…?” Mycroft asked, there was a decided growl in his voice.

“Was…?” Alicia asked simultaneously as Mycroft.

“He had fallen off the radar about three months ago….” Gareth answered.

Mycroft heard the hesitation “And…?”

Expecting the question, Gareth had already logged into his tablet and pulled up files. Lady Smallwood’s and Mycroft’s own tablet pinged a moment later. “We received these from our agents, a little over an hour ago.”

Mycroft looked at the photos and the small video. Now he understood the need for the emergency briefing.

“Jesus Christ!” Lady Smallwood did not try to hide her shock.

Sherlock Holmes and Victor Trevor sat together at a café table in Lima, Peru.

To the casual observer, it was two men dining at an outdoor café. Mycroft read his brother’s body language easily and knew better.

_Whoever did this wanted them to be seen and seen together. It is an obvious taunt._

No one acknowledged the groaning metal arm of Mycroft’s chair.

“All of you here know what happened in King’s Hospital a few weeks back. Given the circumstances, A63-710908 may be dormant, but if anything has happened to my brother, if any harm has befallen his omega and his _pups_ – in short, if anything other than the safe return of Sherlock Holmes to John Watson and both to the City of London happens, I swear to you the ticking time bomb that is Dr. Watson’s Mr. Hyde will explode. And _this_ ….” Mycroft pulled out a photo of the bloody aftermath from one of the reports, “…this will look like a cakewalk. And then there will still be accountability _to me_.”

And no one, absolutely no one acknowledged the claw marks left on the table when Mycroft picked up the folders before him and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AR82-590417 = A-Alpha, R-Revision, 82-year of birth of my eldest son, 590417 – date of birth of actor Sean Bean. In my head canon Victor looked like a young blonder Sean Bean. Which of course reminded me of the actor’s Alec Trevelyan character from the James Bond movie “Goldeneye” whose face was partially burned in an explosion. Thus, we circle back to the question of how did Victor _die_? Now you know – he didn’t.


	60. Players on the Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha Mycroft Holmes is on the trail to find his missing brother Omega Sherlock Holmes and his Alpha John Watson, but there are still things he needs to learn first...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **♥️ It's Valentine's Day! ♥️**  
> 
> 
> I give you amazing readers and commenters some ♥️ with an extra chapter this week.

Now that they knew Victor Trevor was alive, Anthea was better able to trace the evidence.

It was less than forty-eight hours in Sherlock’s severance. Mycroft knew his brother was not coming out anytime soon.  Mummy sat with Sherlock. When an issue in North Korea cropped up, Mycroft left to handle it. Anthea attended with him.

Like Mycroft, codename: Antarctica and Lady Smallwood, codename: Love, Lord Francis, codename: Honor and Sir Edwin, codename Porlock, each had access to a fleet of medical personal for emergency extractions. Victor had been burned on over 80% of his body. His parents would not have questioned their son taken back to the OR for complications. They would not have questioned that he died on the table. They would not have questioned that the burned disfigured body in the morgue was not their child. Their only child.

Sir Edwin had already swapped Victor’s living body with that of the dead MI6 Double O and was in the process of having him transported to South America by the time word of Victor Trevor’s passing reached him and Anthea.

As far as the world knew, Victor Trevor was dead. No one had any reason to think differently.

Until earlier.

“After Victor’s arrival in South America the team lost the trail. Apparently, he never left.”

Anthea closed the door between the flight attendants and secured the conference area of Mycroft’s in flight office several hours later.

Mycroft listened as team members gave information and formed timelines.

_Like my brother, I find that all roads and players on the board lead to South America._

“There are far too many questions in need of answers. The first of which is how did Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson seemingly disappeared from a public library in Lima, Peru in the middle of the day and how do we find them.”

Anthea gave a nod to Lauren McParland, a bonded omega and a trusted member of the team who tracked Mary Morstan aka Maria Isabel Paola’s timeline.

“They were related?” Mycroft looked at the photo of Maria Isabel Paola and Janine Hawkins in their preteens, taken two years before the Hawkins family moved into the neighborhood of John Hamish Watson. “Details.”

Lauren began the summary of her report.

“Consuela Paola, Maria Isabel’s mother, is married to Jerome Hawkins, brother of Barbara Hawkins, Janine’s mother. Maria and Janine, a year apart in age, are first cousins. The two grew up together as children when the Hawkins’ family lived in Lima. The cousins stayed in close contact until Hawkins’ death. Maria grew up wanting to become a doctor; it was her cousin’s death that pushed her to specialize in working with omegas. She had insisted from the beginning that Janine would never have committed suicide. She wanted to know how such a thing could have happened.”

Mycroft felt rather than heard Anthea’s minuscule sniff in reaction. He knew her thought matched his.

_John Watson is how._

“She joined up with MSF after refugees from an internal skirmish wound up at the hospital where she worked. She took to working with the impoverished, especially teens and omegas.” Lauren continued. “According to the timeline Maria Paola and John Watson should have initially crossed paths then. It was early in his military service before he joined the program. He was on a peace mission there giving out vaccines in a makeshift clinic.”  Lauren held up a photo of Dr. Maria Paola, studying the contents of a box and a print of a news article dated the from the same week as Maria’s photo showing a young Dr. John H. Watson administering a shot to a child. It was evident both pictures were taken in the same room.

He did not know the details, but having made the connection between the young John Watson, what he can do to his brother now, and the death of Janine Hawkins then, Mycroft understood Watson’s choices for betas as mates.

_If John had met Mary then as Maria, he would have dismissed her outright simply on the basis that his romantic preferences never really ran to alpha women._

“All of that is easily tracked. It was in her later tours with MSF where things changed.” Lauren paused to hand more pages to Anthea and Mycroft. “There are notes from other doctors of a male patient. The patient claimed amnesia; they identified him as Irish by accent alone. You can see from the descriptions given it could have been Jim Moriarty. It fits the timeline. In her own records, Mary had doubts of the man’s veracity at first. After a couple of weeks her notes started claiming his amnesia as truth though the other doctors still questioned it. Then one day the Irish patient disappeared. Three weeks later, as did she. There are a couple of years of nothing for Maria Paola. She simply fell off the grid and presumed dead. No one wants to talk about the doctors who sometimes disappear. Then a decade ago, the perfect beta named Mary Morstan appeared on the radars. Apparently, through sheer coincidence or the universe having a laugh, Mary looked enough like Vera Hylton that when the two met while serving with MSF, it was assumed they were related and often played it off that way.”

“If the two had met before, Watson clearly did not remember Maria when he met her again as Mary during his tours with MSF.”

Lauren passed around the news photo of Maria Paola alongside a blown-up printout of Mary Morstan and Very Hylton’s _Médecins Sans Frontières_ identifications.

_Brunette to blond. Rhinoplasty. Reconstructive surgery. The match to Vera Hylton is truly uncanny. Definitely the same woman, yet enough differences that most would not connect the two, especially with a good number of years between sightings._

“In those same years Watson was in the Royal Army as a combat medic. He was as excellent soldier and doctor in the field, but was known for having something of a wild streak when not in the trenches. He also developed quite the reputation as the ladies’ alpha. The only places he hadn’t made conquests, on mostly non-sanctioned missions mind you, were Australia and Antarctica. One because he was never sent there and the other simply because he never got the opportunity to try it.” Anthea deadpanned as she rose for more tea.

Mycroft caught the tell of Anthea pushing a non-existent strand of hair behind her ear. Just as only Anthea caught the flash of Mycroft’s amusement in the slight shift of his left pinky. Anthea had read the non-redacted reports, only the two of them on the plane knew Watson never went to Australia on a mission for the Army.

_Oh, you got jokes as the young say these days._

To the rest of the team Anthea and Mycroft were stone-faced as she placed a fresh cup of tea next to her boss. Even if they got the double entendre, they knew to remain equally stone-faced.

“Then the Charikar incident happened.” Anthea sat and continued as she flipped through the report given to Mycroft at the debriefing earlier, checking her information. “Sebastian Moran, then a Captain as well, was the reason Watson first went feral. Sometimes you need a fine honed edge, other times you need a blunt instrument. Moran long had a rep for being heavy-handed during interviews. Watson’s method was unique unto him. No other alpha in the unit has been able to control themselves when bonding.  Watson conducted an interview where his type of delicacy was needed. He had bonded an omega and had extracted information where no other method apparently worked. It was the second time he had used _Bond and Release_ method as he eventually called it. The captain was with Sgt. Warren Singer and Lt. Matt Norman, both betas who were there as official witnesses and to monitor things just in case, when Moran walked into the wrong interview room. The newly bonded omega recognized Moran. Let’s just say he was very rough on her and that was why Watson was there for this round. The pregnant omega’s reaction to Moran was, and I quote her here: _pure terror to see my pup’s sire again_ and she started to scream.”

“Oh Jesus.” Lauren groaned. “Given what we know of Watson now…. he had freshly bonded with a pregnant omega…?”

“Exactly.” Anthea continued, “He did not know she was pregnant until he bonded her less than an hour before. His back was to the door talking to Springer and Norman when Moran entered. He dropped into _alpha protect_ mode at the omega’s reaction. Moran had been given instructions to be the blunt instrument. Not realizing he was in the wrong room he immediately walked in slapped the seated omega to the floor. Let’s just say Watson _intervened_ and it was on. Springer, still new to the concept of alphas and omegas and not knowing any better, tried to subdue Watson, the smaller of the two combatants. Norman, who should have known better, was likely thinking get the omega out to another room and secure her, he never made it out of the room. All Watson knew was that it was three against one while in protection of his pregnant omega and Alpha John Watson went feral for the first time in his life. According to the omega, and I quote _it was over quickly for the betas_. Springer and Norman never had a chance. Watson turned to Springer and smashed skull in. He likely would have done more, but Norman had touched his omega; he saw it as trying to poach her. Norman had his throat ripped out for his troubles. Moran used the distraction of Springer and Norman to attack Watson.”

“I am curious. He was clocked at one minute forty-eight for Dennison…” Irvin asked thoughtfully, then realized what he said and shrugged embarrassed.

“Two beta soldiers without a regular alpha’s speed and agility were up against Watson an alpha already noted for his exceptional abilities in both. I think _over quickly_ suffices without placing an actual numerical value, don’t you, Mr. Hemmings?” Mycroft’s eyes narrowed on the man.

“Yes, sir.” Irvin demurred.

“Watson was not out for vengeance, only to quickly neutralize a perceived threat and get back to the omega. Being his first time, it was understood even he was not aware of his abilities when feral. It took forty-six seconds from the moment Watson went after Moran for striking the omega until Springer and Norman were dead.” Mycroft then answered.

Irvin’s eyes went wide at the information, but his voice stayed neutral. “Yes, sir.”

Mycroft nodded for Anthea to continue.

“Major James Sholto, waiting in the room Moran should have been in heard the ruckus. He arrived as Moran had grabbed Watson and flung the captain away from him. Quoting Sholto: _Watson landed on his back and rolled over to all fours. His face was bloody, his back was gouged and he clearly had a broken finger. Still, Watson was across the room, had sank his teeth into Moran’s shoulder and broken Moran’s left shin before I thought to get tranquilizers for them_. _There was nothing I could do but close the door and let them at it before Cpl. Zelter handed me a tranquillizer gun. By then the room had gone quiet. When I opened the door, Moran was unconscious and Cpt. Watson had just come out of core, the omega beside him._ End quote. Watson was immediately sickened from the sight around him yet growled as Sholto, another alpha, entered the room. Sholto was prepared this time and immediately tranqed Watson, Moran and the omega. It was the only way to get either captain out safely and begin severance for Watson. Watson was later stunned to learn that he was the one who killed Springer and Norman. The omega and the cameras corroborated what happened.”

“Wow, they both lived.” Lauren shook her head impressed. “Those two have had a long-standing dislike going by their records.”

“That was their very first physical tussle. They were two alphas fighting, but trying NOT to kill each other because they wanted to tear the other into pieces first. In the end Moran injuries were a broken shin, ulna, wrist, three broken ribs and a bite that took two weeks to heal. Watson had two broken ribs, a cracked rib, his right pinky broken, left eye swollen shut, hair missing in one spot and gouges in his back. Both were out of commission for weeks in different facilities. Watson called it a draw. That’s the most credit he’s ever given anyone in a fight.  Though to be fair Moran is the only alpha on record who has survived a full out tussle with Watson while in core.” Anthea shrugged. “Moran was brought before an A/O and Army tribunal. The omega identified him as her rapist and the sire of her pups. Once it came out that he had raped an omega, impregnated her, abused her days and then abandoned her, he was shamed. Watson, though no longer bonded to the omega, gave the marques in her honor. Unbeknownst to either alpha, in light of what happened, she was offered abortion, but turned it down. It was a moot point as it was learned she miscarried the next day later. It was estimated that was when the bond from Watson was completely severed. No one knows for sure if the severance or the mix of alpha bloods in such a short time was the cause. The deaths of Springer and Norman were ruled as friendly fire and the entire incident was Watson’s first D-Notice. He was recruited for A63 shortly after that and volunteered.”

 _“_ That was Watson _before_ the A63 program?” Irvin asked impressed. All knew it was rhetorical and did not respond.

_The program is what created his Mr. Hyde._

Mycroft knew Anthea saw him as his eyes flicked over Watson’s files on the table.

_That was his first D-Notice. It was certainly far from his latest. Nearly all of his missions with the program were deeply hidden._

“When the A63 program started, James Moriarty was the chief engineering chemist. Several of our bio tools in use now were due to or improved by his genius. On the good side Moriarty was insanely genius. Conversely, he was also considered genuinely insane - given to violent mood shifts.” Irvin picked up the discussion with the segue of the A63.

“I interviewed with Moriarty when he first graduated uni. He was seventeen – I seriously considered hiring him.”

“Mr. Holmes! How…how could you‽”

“The world is full of all types of monsters, Irvin. Sometimes, the best that we can hope for is to have the more terrible among them on our side. Genius and insane sums him up precisely. I thought he would be trouble and let him go. I’m not surprised Sir Edwin took him on. They share the same prejudice for our kind, especially alphas.” Mycroft sipped his tea. “Continue.”

“The A63s were the first twenty from that line. Watson volunteered and was designated A63-710908. Watson thought he could learn to control the feral part of him which he dubbed the monster. He had no idea Sir Edwin was trying to make a bigger monster. A monster they then hoped to unleash and leash on command. Moron was ordered to the program and designated A63-770402. There were 38 other A63s over the course of the program before termination.”

Hemmings placed four photographs of John on the table between him and Lauren, three face up – one face down.

In the first photo John Watson looked exactly like the fresh-faced recruit he was in his official photo when he joined the Royal Army.

The second photo was a couple of years after the news article photo of him. Alphas, are rarely modest about their bodies. Even small alphas are decent physical specimens to behold. This photo was John out of uniform, almost literally. The alpha was in a casual lean against a barracks bunk bed in naught but army issue pants that left nothing to the imagination, and his combat boots. The Army had had toughened his body, but he was still youthful in the face. The alpha looked good and he damn well knew it.

_The cocky bastard._

Everyone ignored Lauren’s slight purr, before the omega caught herself.

In the third, after the program terminated, the doctor's face restrained urgency as he performed an emergency field surgery. The captain had kept his boyish looks, but the boy was gone, the man’s inner steel showed in the alpha’s face as he worked on his patient. 

_By then Watson had seen enough, had done enough. More than enough. Enough for a lifetime._

Hemmings touched the fourth photo on the table that was face down.

“This photograph was in a camera found among the collateral damage after a bezerker rampage. It was the last image in the camera. We believe this is the last thing the photographer saw moments before he was attacked.”

He slowly turned the photograph over.

A near naked alpha male sat on his haunches, clothing so torn you could see his bunched muscle and sinew. His clawed hands touched the bloody ground between his legs, one in front of the other. He faced the camera with his teeth bared, his eyes full black. He was scratched, bruised and bloody. Even though he was still, there was a tenseness to his muscles that suggested imminent movement.

_He was coiled to spring up at any moment and when he did the photographer had to know he was about to die and yet he stood there transfixed watching it unfold._

“I have seen in the reports other photos and videos of various A63s in feral mode. None are as clear, as frightening or unforgiving as this.” Mycroft noted out loud. “No wonder he calls it _the monster_.”

Hemmings picked up the photographs of Watson and placed similar ones of Sebastian Moran. These were different. Moran was a very handsome alpha, but where Watson had kept the mischievous boyishness he will always have, Sebastian, already with his first marque when his enlisted, was a hard case from the beginning. Moran remained handsome, but had grown harder, colder in his looks as he served Crown and Country.

“Watson and Moran were their best success stories in that they both made it out still mentally intact. However, Moran was also their biggest failure. Where Watson showed restraint when he chose to, he clearly _chose_ to. Several times Moran was noted for saying _Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori_ 1 just before he killed an insurgent. Moran had no conscience - period. The remaining A63 alphas either went crazy and had to be put down or did not survive their missions. Two successes out of forty was deemed not worth the risks. The program was presumed terminated. We have reason to believe now the facilities were rebuilt somewhere in South America and continued the operation with a new team of chemists. With or without Porlock’s knowledge when initially built has yet to be officially determined.” 

_I am sure he seeded it, Trevor is proof an iteration of it continued._

“Earlier, you use past tense with Moriarty, what happened to him?” Anthea asked Irvin.

“Reports state he blew his brains out on a rooftop in London. Here are the death certificate copies. The program moved to an unknown location and a Ricardo Arroyo had taken over as lead engineering chemist. No one can seem to get a photo of the man, but reports say Arroyo is less hands on, delegating a good part of it to minor geniuses. All par excellence, but none quite up to his level. He focused on the high-level items and special projects.” Irvin answered. “We believe Arroyo was behind the designer drug _El Beso_ that flashed through Miami a few years ago that killed some alphas, but apparently did wonders for omegas as a narcotic. We also think Arroyo is the _rico_ that is rumored to be causing unrest in some parts of South America. He has built something of a criminal empire that has expanded into several countries, including the UK. Again, he is never seen, but has a quite a few cops and government officials in his pockets.”

Mycroft looked up and held out a hand to stop Hemmings.

“His name is Ricardo Arroyo?”

“Really?” Anthea shook her head as she got it, “He went there? So blatant?”

“What is it?” Irvin looked at the two of them.

“Bloody hell! The best way to hide a lie is to cover it in truth.” Lauren moaned. She looked to her boss nervously and slid a folder to Anthea. “He was in London and we missed it.”

_Lauren gives it to Anthea for vetting first instead of handing it directly to me. Interesting._

He observed as Anthea opened the folder cautiously. She purposely angled the folder and viewed its contents in a way that Mycroft could not see. The agent disguised as his PA and aide de camp, had learned much at Mycroft’s tutelage over the years of working with him.

_Oh, very good Anthea, you are very surprised, yet your face has barely moved at all._

She was excellent, he knew McParland and Hemmings could not see it, but Mycroft read her easily as he took in more details.

_The slightest hitch in your breath the photographs tells me you are intrigued and slightly aroused by what you see._

She flicked her eyes to Lauren before she looked to her boss and closed the file with an amused glint.

“Anthea…” Mycroft eyes narrowed.

“Apparently your brother and Dr. Watson met Rico Arroyo some months ago.” Anthea slid the file to him.

Lauren’s eyes went slightly wide as Mycroft opened it.

Mycroft purposely read the verbiage Anthea left at the top of the report first.

He then flipped the first photograph over.

Sherlock and Arroyo conversing as they waited in queue at a bar.

“I see.” He responded slowly. “My brother and the doctor do get around.” His face betrayed nothing as he viewed the second and third images of his brother in a conversation pit with Arroyo and others.

 _Thank the dear lord he had told me of his visit beforehand. He knew there were cameras_ that _is among the so many reasons why I have never frequented the establishment. I expected images of him to crop up eventually._

The fourth image was of Sherlock and John as they stood together at a door.

_They do make a very good-looking pair together._

He saw as Anthea’s lip quirked when he turned over the fifth image for even he could not control his slightly raised and amused brow.

_Oh, Dennison was fuming in his envy and lust. My brother knew exactly what he was doing in his alpha’s lap._

“I have never seen him look so…subservient. He must have practiced.” He responded drolly as he closed the file and slid it back to a relieved Lauren. “Show it to Hemmings, he does not understand yet.”

Irvin looked through the file and face palmed as it clicked. “Well I’ll be damned – Moriarty lives.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  _Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori_ is a line from the Roman lyrical poet Horace's Odes (III.2.13). The line is usually translated as: "It is sweet and proper to die for one's country."
> 
>  
> 
> ^^ Return to paragraph


	61. The Seeming of a Demon’s that is Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha John Watson is in a bad way as he discovers who has him captured, learns some things about his estranged -and on the run ex-wife - Mary, and worries for his Omega Sherlock Homes...

_Oh, it upsy-daisy time again._

John woke up still alphastrained, but in a vertical position instead of lying down.

With hope, he did the same thing each time he wakened…

_{SHERLOCK!}_

…And felt the same disappointing hurt of nothing in response each time he awakened.

He had started to worry, being out of contact with his omega again just when things had finally started to straighten out between them. An omega’s pregnancy felt so very different, to an alpha than a beta’s. John’s hands twitched in memory of the feel of the pups’ movements.

_Sherlock is at five months._

They would be at a stage where he should be able to know their primary sex, by now.

_No. No. No. Letting your thoughts roam too much Captain. That is not good. Focus!_

This was hardly the captain’s first kidnapping. John somehow knew with Sherlock as his mate, it likely would not be his last. Between his military training and what he had learned working with Sherlock, John forced his mind back to his current predicament.

At some point, he was bathed and shaved while he was tranquilized, but his beard had grown back some since. He no longer had a sense of time other than it was more than two weeks. Still, his eyes slowly tracked the room.

One of the doctors, a beta by the name of Yarrow, held his head and shined a light in his eyes.

“- His eyes are responsive sir, but he is still listless. -”

John’s head fell forward when Yarrow let go and walked away. He had trouble lifting and keeping his head up, but John could not help his petty satisfaction at the sight of the doctor’s bandaged wrist. They learned to keep him muzzled within five minutes of his first waking. Yesterday’s lesson was the price paid when Yarrow forgot himself and let his hand rest on the exam table near John’s hand. The immobility of John’s forearm down to the wrist was the only reason Yarrow still had his hand. It was badly sprained from Yarrow’s panicked wrenching of it from John’s grasp.

That was something that should not have happened.

_It should have broken._

A persistent dull ache throbbed through his muscles and his mind woke him. One sensation was something he had not felt since A-Levels. The other was one that he had felt a few times when he served in the RAMC. He knew the feeling of both and exactly why he was feeling them.

An alpha’s body is not designed for stillness. The summer after he bonded with Jay he developed a first metatarsal break on his left foot and a hairline fracture of the fifth metatarsal on his right, in the same football game. The break required surgery, a cast and a period on crutches. The fracture just required the wearing of a solid shoe. However, having both at the same time waylaid him. It was summer, school was out and John was going stir crazy being up in the house the first couple of weeks. What surprised both of them was though Jay herself was not physically injured she was receptive to his atrophy. People thought she was tired from being a good omega to her new alpha, taking care of him. Only the two of them understood as he got better, so had she.

Some bonded military alphas on long tours or are who captured for a period suffer the effects of a slow severance if they cannot at least scent connect with their omega during tours. Articles of clothing or blankets are the most shipped items between bonded pairs. Severance through atrophy, an extended lack of connection between the bonded pair, rarely occurred by choice as both parties suffered depending on the strength of the initial bond. It was potentially detrimental and life threatening to the alpha or omega serving in the military. Though it sometimes happened as a form of a “Dear John” for the childless bonded pair, it never happened on purpose for those with children. While sharing many similarities, each bonded pair is different. Some last only days before the effects of physical atrophy begins, some can last a month.

Two weeks of the inertia of being alphastrained, being fed and not being in contact with his omega wore on John.

Atrophy and the beginnings of a slow severance. This was not the bond and release he used in the Army. This was Sherlock, he loved him. It was going to hurt and hurt badly.

_If I’m feeling it, so is he. The pups!_

“- All of the subjects were boosted to varying levels. -” Yarrow continued speaking. “- Miles and Blair had the best results, they were also in the best physical conditions to begin with. All of round one noticeably increased over a twenty-four-hour period and then levelled off. The second round were injected a week ago. They were boosted over a forty-eight-hour period, but not at the percentages as the first round. The third round was two days ago and any increase is negligible at best. The first two rounds who boosted have maintained their levels. The third not so much.-”

“- All seemed to be keeping the boost they gained, but each successive round has slowly weakened, Arroyo. -” Avedon, another doctor spoke.

“- I am well aware of that! -” A voice behind him snapped. A familiar voice. “- I want to know what the hell it is causing this. -”

_What the bloody hell is he doing here?_

“- We don’t know, sir. -” Yarrow responded.

“Sherlo…” John purposely said it weaker than he felt as he let his head loll again.

“- What? -” Avedon moved into John’s line of vision.

“- He’s a bonded alpha and I think he’s atrophying, boss. -” John heard Sebastian Moran’s voice. “- I’ve seen it happen with bonded military alphas held hostage. Our bodies atrophy if we do not, or cannot properly exercise or get enough protein. We’re carnivores who are designed to move. -”

“- I tried to explain that he needs to be in contact with the omega, Ricardo. It’s been nearly three weeks – it’s symbiotic. ”

John listened as Yarrow and Moran approached him.

He felt as Sebastian pulled his hair, he lifted his head and looked at the alpha. “Need…omega…”

“- What you’re telling me is the serum is weakening, because he’s weakening? That is a problem. -” The familiar voice he had not heard since El Enlace came around and stood in front of him. 

John looked at the man. He looked the same.

_Bespoke suited did not hide the latent insanity._

Richard Brook.

“- It breaks down like this Arroyo: after nearly a decade since you first brought us on board for this, you might actually be on the path you are looking for with the enzymes in this alpha’s blood. However, for the best results we need the best blood from him. -” Yarrow stated. He pressed a button somewhere by John’s head and he felt hydraulics kick into gear as he was slowly lowered to a horizontal position again. “- We can’t get that if he’s atrophying. -”

John closed his eyes, the bright over head lights bothered him more.

Slowly his brain pulled random thoughts together into something cohesive.

_Ricardo? Arroyo?  Rico Arroyo. Rico. He’s Sebastian’s boss?_

“Rico Arroyo – Rich Brook?” John giggled in hoarse whisper. “That’s brilliant.”

John did not see the knife in Brook’s hand. Until Brook pulled it out his thigh.

Only the fact that he was alphastrained kept John from Brook’s throat. Even so, Brook was the only one who did not flinch when the entire unit shook as John reacted.

“I bet that inspires you to live a little.” Richard sniffed nonplussed.

“No boss.” Moran shook his head.

“No?” Brook pulled out the blade and shoved it under Sebastian’s chin.

“- Damn it! We’re not equipped for that! Call medical get someone up here to fix this! -” Avedon put his hand over the wound and applied pressure.

“Trust me. That is not going to work.” Moran held out his hands in surrender to the smaller man clearly not accustomed to anyone denying him anything. “Remember when we met and you restrained me for over month. You worked me over, yes, but it was the restraint that almost killed me.”

“Yes, you lasted a month, Sebastian.” Brook swung the blade idly toward John “He’s barely been here three weeks.”

“I was never a bonded Alpha. He is. You’ve read Watson’s papers. It’s symbiotic at this point.” 

“She had said everything changed once you and your omega met, Johnny Boy.” 

John’s eyes were closed, but he knew Rico looked down on him, he did not bother to ask.

He knew exactly who _she_ was.

_Mary. What does she have to do with this?_

John knew Richard wanted a reaction out of him.

_Not giving it to him._

John started to open his eyes, but the lights were much too bright, even with his head turned to the side. He closed them again.

“Yeah, she told me you finally learned what she is. Let me tell you a little of who she is to me. She finds appropriate omega males for me to test in my experiments. I point and she kills who I tell her to. I point and she fucks who I tell her to. God she’s a good shag – but you know that.”  Richard’s hot breath was close to John’s face. He knew the man had bent down to lean on the unit. His hand idly stroked along John’s restrained body as he spoke.

“And all she ever wanted in return was _you_ , Johnny Boy. You were hers and no one was to touch you – ever. Not even Sebastian. My only hold on her was to threaten you. The woman can hold a grudge and keep a secret, I will give her that. To this day I still do not know what you did to her that she went through all she went through to get to you. Only to give it up and then lose it.”

John frowned.

_What the hell is he talking about? What did I do?_

“Look at his face Sebs, even he does not know. Damn, she’s good.”

“She’s dead.” John gritted out.

_Surely, Mycroft got her by now._

“Aww, don’t be like that John! She did grow to love you; did you know that? No, you wouldn’t – you thought she loved you all along, like I said, she is good. She wasn’t supposed to, she damn sure didn’t want to, but she did in truth in the end.  It’s why she kept coming back to you. She just loved working for me more. But she miscalculated agreeing to a second mate to hold you. The faeries conspired and you wound up with him. None of that matters now, you’re mine, but I digress.” John felt it as Brook moved aside when someone came to address the stab wound.

“Your lovely wife is second only to Sebastian as my favorite pet. She’s a vicious, duplicitous bitch. I like viciousness in my pets, don’t I Seb? Still not a vicious as the third pet I acquired not too long ago. Now, Gabby? Gabby is something else! My pet was bored. A police commissioner from the States tried to double-cross me. I gave Gabby the commissioner’s beta wife as a treat. Made the commissioner watch as she moaned in orgasm and then screamed as she was knotted. Yes, Gabby knew the woman was a beta. Gabby’s instructions were to set up a live feed, seduce her and kill her. Gabby chose the venue and the method. Imagine the husband’s horror knowing he would then have to go to his own bedroom and deal with that. That was days ago. I had to give Gabby an even better treat as a thank you.”

A shadow crossed John’s eyes and stayed shielding them from the light. John knew he would regret it.

He _knew_.

He opened his eyes anyway and faced a tablet with a video playing.

_Sherlock!_

His joy at seeing his omega died as quickly as it flared as he realized what he watched.

_Victor’s alive‽ How‽_

John had only seen pictures of the Sherlock’s erstwhile alpha, still he recognized the man with the burned skin as Victor Gabriel Trevor.

_Is that why I haven’t been able to feel him? Was Victor able to take him back?_

John shook his head, instinctively knowing that could not be true.

_Think, John! Think why is Brook showing you this now?_

John forced himself to watch. Forced himself to look at how the two men sat. Forced himself to see Sherlock’s face. The swinging of Sherlock’s foot. The tap of Sherlock’s feet.

Everyone looks at hands and fingers for hidden messages. Sherlock and Mycroft also included feet. Left foot dashes, right foot dots, both feet still a rest spelling out D-U-R-E-S-S and G-U-N and L-I-M-A.

_He is or was in Lima. He knew he was being watched. He knew I would be shown this._

Sherlock placed a hand on his abdomen under the table where he tapped out something else

Y-O-U-R-S J-O-H-N.

_He’s still mine._

What alpha would point a gun at a pregnant omega?

_One who would rape and knot a beta while her husband watched._

“Victor Gabriel… Gabby…” John moaned in dread as he turned his head away from Brook. He had closed his eyes again and Brook moved the tablet away.

“You are right Sebastian, he is a smart one. I bet he saw the love note his omega tapped for him under the table. Such love, it’s beautiful.” Richard spoke words that slid oily off his tongue, his hand caressed John’s muzzled face. His fingers starting at his left temple, gliding across his hairline to his left temple to then slide down that side, stroke under his chin and complete the circuit to his left temple again. John felt something cool and metallic brush his temple.  “Unfortunately, my pet was not any gentler with this one, but he kept a beautiful reminder as thanks. Was so unhappy when I demanded it, he does like his mementos, I might give it back  - he’s earned it.”

John had met many evil people in his life, especially those he had met behind his own friendly lines when he served in the army. People that had evil down to a calculated science.

They had nothing on Arroyo. His evil was an art form and he was a maestro at his craft. The quiet psychotic wildness that hung around the man like a death shroud was relentless.

John knew what brushed his face. He knew Brook brushed his face with it on purpose for him to feel it. He did not want to look at Brook. He did not want to look at it. To look at it, confirmed it and potentially removed any possible millimeter of hope. 

Brook straightened up again and pressed a button. The unit angled up slightly so John could open his eyes because Richard he knew John knew.

John knew he could not – _not_ look. When he felt the circuit start at his left temple again he opened his eyes and found himself staring into Brook’s dark menacing eyes.  Those eyes and that closed mouth smile that chilled him to the bone. But he only saw them for a moment as a yellow gold dangle of a half heart with the stylized crown W on one side and his surname on the other hung from a white gold bracelet. He knew the owner of that bracelet did not let it go voluntarily.

There was blood on it to prove it. Sherlock’s blood, he could scent it.

Sherlock was hurt and he could not feel him. He could do nothing to help.

_My omega!_

_My pups!_

It took everything John had not to give Richard Brook the satisfaction of hearing him scream. There was nothing he could do about the tears that blocked his vision as he silently raged against the restraints shaking the table again, but he heard the man's laughter echo as Brook and Sebastian walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the non-Spanish speakers: Rico means rich and is also a diminutive of name Ricardo. Arroyo translates as a creek, stream or - you guess it – brook.
> 
> Chapter title “…the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming…” is from “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe


	62. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha Mycroft and his hand-picked team are in Lima, Peru in search of his kidnapped omega brother Sherlock Holmes, and Sherlock's alpha John Watson. It's has not been going well...

The tall bearded man, in prêt-à-porter brown slacks, an unbuttoned hunter knit polo shirt sans vest with a plaid sports blazer picked up a very expensive vase and threw it across the room. It was an impressive display of porcelain, water and flora the shattered into the wall.

“-- GOD DAMN IT! --” his Russian accented Spanish boomed in the quiet room.

He vaguely noted the woman in a form fitted low-cut green and black zebra print top, tight black leggings, what looks like a leopard print shag rug for a coat, stiletto heels and hair piled so high she was nearly his height as she entered the room at the noise. She held a hand up to the man who waited in the sitting area as she closed the bedroom door and locked it behind her.

The flat cap he wore slid forward on his head. He tossed it beside him as he sank onto the settee and his head fell into his hands. She said nothing.

He knew she would not until he spoke first. He just needed a moment.

_Fine, several moments._

As always, she knew exactly what he needed as she then walked to the bar, prepared what he knew would be a perfectly poured scotch and gently ran the cool cut crystal against the back of his hand. He took the drink and held it against his temple as his other hand fell to rest against his leg, but did not otherwise move. She tossed his flat cap to the coffee table, sat beside him and patiently waited.

He knew it was bad when he finally realized she had not pulled out her mobile, giving him her full attention.

He knew it was worse when the warmth of her fingers on his wrist informed him that they had been there a while. As always, her middle finger rested lightly on his pulse at the last tap that brought him out of his mind palace.

_Anthea._

“Mummy states she uses her ring finger because it is the most sensitive to the fluctuations. Near every doctor in existence seems to use their index finger. Oddly, Sherlock sometimes uses his pinky. However, you and Gregory always use your middle finger. Why is that?” He looked to her.

“I have no idea. Perhaps, because we are the only two alive that ever gave a fuck?” she replied glibly as she released his wrist.

The glass, partially to his lips, paused as he cut his eyes at her.

 _Oh, that was a very long time ago. Before I knew your real name._ _Before you knew mine._

One of his last assignments as a field agent. She was one of the very few people alive who knew how he looked and sounded _in flagrante delicto_. Meeting as their true selves over a year after the act had been _interesting_ to say the least.

She cheekily held his eyes utterly unrepentant until he had no choice but to give her the amused eye roll she knew he withheld.

“Apologies.” Mycroft finally sipped at the drink. It had warmed while he held it, but he enjoyed the feel of it as it flowed down.

“None needed given the circumstances, but accepted, sir.” Her natural Australian accent had slipped into her words. It was faint, but there beneath the polished agent she had become.

_Oh, she is tired. We all are at our limits._

_And this damned shirt is irritating me!_

He yanked off the blazer in frustration and then the polo shirt.

“Get properly dressed, sir. You’ll feel better once you’re suited.” She began to remove the seemingly thousands of hairpins that aided in the horrid majesty that was her bouffant. She saw his expression and rolled her eyes.

“I know. I know. And I’ll look better once I am suited as well. I’ll have housekeeping come clean up once we’ve debriefed.” She stood and headed for the sitting room door.

“Thank you, Anthea.”

“We will find them, Mycroft.” She said softly before she opened the door and left.

_She used my given name. She’s worried for me._

Two weeks. An entire fortnight had passed.

Nothing.

It was almost as though Sherlock Holmes and Watson had never set foot in Lima, Peru.

But Mycroft knew better. He knew his nemesis was aware he would come personally for this. He hid his tracks well.

_But you cannot hide them from me forever, you bastard. This is a game I play well and I play it to win._

_Always._

He looked out the window as he began to remove his disguise. Well most of it.

He no longer wore the false beard he had when he first arrived. His own had started to grow in thick enough that he naturally looked like the relaxed tourist guise he embodied. He could not wait to be back in his own clothes, to be back home.

 _Home_.

 

His chest tightened as he thought of his baby brother and the only other thing that meant home to him.

He picked up his mobile and sent a text.

&15 – unknown number 1

He knew it was almost no response time. He fully had expected not to receive one. Thus, when the mobile vibrated in his hand less than five minutes later he could not hold back the smile.

“You responded!” Mycroft sighed relieved and chastised himself.

_Of course, he did._

“Oh, Myc!” Gregory’s voice was heaven sent. Gregory did not ask the obvious, he did not have to. Ten minutes of hearing his lover’s gravelly voice talk of the mundane was all he needed to ground himself again.

Twenty-five minutes after Anthea left the room, the Iceman emerged. Sans jacket, but otherwise his suited, waist-coated self. Anthea also had returned to her normal wardrobe and make-up, though her hair was pulled in loose chignon instead of its usual cascade of waves.

_It would probably take an hour to wash all the product out, this was expedient._

“What have we got?”

Hemmings gave the slightest incline of his head before he pressed a button on a console. The baffling that would secure the room from any potential outside listeners engaged. They waited until the all clear beeped and began.

Irvin reported, according to the hotel room where Sherlock and John had stayed, the two called in their check out due family emergency. Their belongings were picked-up by their assistant and a driver to be shipped back to London. When Hemmings reviewed the hotel’s security footage the “driver” had been Victor Trevor.

_It still such a surprise to see the man alive. As much as the reason how he is alive galls me._

Mycroft had access to most of Sherlock’s data on the case. He followed the data to similar conclusions that eventually lead him and Anthea to meeting with Lautaro Echeverría.

They learned of the death of Juan Alcantara and Ernesto Sandoval. Mycroft had already viewed the photos taken at both scenes. He knew only an alpha could have done what happened to Sandoval and he suspected that alpha was John Watson.  A review of the library’s security footage and they discovered it was very similar to how Mary Watson had escaped New Scotland Yard. While emergency services dealt with the shooting of Alcantara, the truck of a popular laundry service had loaded two bins at a different exit. A popular laundry service for which the library had no use.  

Lima, Peru was a bustling metropolis with impressive security. Still, it did not have the vast network that ran through London. It was easier here to make a van seemingly disappear to those who knew how. After Sherlock and Watson’s disappearance, and Trevor’s reappearance, Mycroft was well aware his opponents knew how and had acted accordingly.

Mycroft and Anthea had also seen the restored scroll. It was Anthea who pointed at a looped motif and commented how it reminded her of the design in the necklace the sad old lady wore at the airport.

Anthea had said it in Russian, but Mycroft knew Echeverría got the gist by where she pointed.

> Lauren McParland and Irvin Hemmings had deplaned first and entered the airport through official channels. Mycroft and Anthea chose a different route….
> 
> “- What are you looking at? -” Mikhail Alexandrov stopped as he noticed an old woman who stared at him.
> 
> _Why does she look so heartbroken?_
> 
> “- Mikhail! Don’t be rude! -” his wife, Anastacia Jana Alexansdrova, admonished as she turned away.
> 
> Mikhail knew he should just walk away, but somehow, he could not make himself move from her.
> 
> _It would be_ _disrespectful_. _Who is she? What is she? I cannot scent her._
> 
> “You are unkind.” She said to him thoughtfully.
> 
> “- Quite so. Kindness is not a trait associated with me. -” He agreed even as he knew his temperament was not what she meant. 
> 
> “- Mikhail? -” Anastacia turned when she realized her husband had not followed.
> 
> “You are not kind, but you are honorable. Your honor has her served well.” The old woman looked up at him.
> 
> Mikhail startled. He knew the old woman did not mean the woman beside him. More importantly she was well aware that he knew exactly which woman he served well.
> 
> “ _Familia Antigua_. Your kind _fuerte_. It runs deep.” She nodded sagely in some personal epiphany. Her brows furrowed as she studied him, something crossed her mind. “Ah, brother mine.”
> 
> _How does she…?_
> 
> Mikhail stood still. His wife’s gentle touch on his arm told him he heard correctly.
> 
> “- I do not understand. My family is ancient, my kind strong? -”
> 
> “Those are not the questions you want answered Unkind.” Her fingers idly ran the beading of one of the many necklaces she wore, touched a pendant which hung from it. “Go child.”
> 
> “- What do you mean? It runs deep. -” His eyes narrowed, knowing that was not the question.
> 
> “Did I not speak English? Peru is a beautiful country. The cities. The Andes. Anon.” She said enigmatically turned and walked away. Underneath it all such sadness radiated from her even as she spoke pleasantly. He knew she was about to cry. It reminded him of how his mother held up when his father died.
> 
> “- I am sorry for your loss.-” The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
> 
> The old woman stopped and turned back to him. She did not try to stop the tears that slid from her eyes.
> 
> “Thank you, Unkind.” She gave a slight nod of her head, then went on her way.
> 
> Mikhail turned to the woman beside him, “- What was that about? -”
> 
> “- I have no idea, sir. You stopped and listened to her. I only admired her necklace -” Anastacia shook her head as she checked her mobile and slipped into Russian as they walked to baggage claim. “-- You stayed in Russian character speaking Spanish while she spoke the Queens’s English and neither of you acknowledged the disconnect. --”
> 
> _I will have to think on that another time. First, find my brother and his alpha._
> 
> “-- You’re going to need to make a call to Korea once we’re locked down, Sir. --” Anthea continued as she scanned her mobile as they started walking. “-- Hemmings and McParland should be on their way to the…. --”
> 
> “-- No, they are hiding over by the pillar at your seven, trying not be in shock. --” Mycroft pulled his flat cap further down in a hat tip as he otherwise ignored the pair. “-- There was absolutely no way they were not going to witness me doing legwork with their own eyes. --”
> 
> “-- Well, we are quite the novel sight compared to our usual mode of apparel, sir. --” Anthea passed their quietly gobsmacked teammates without acknowledgement.
> 
> _Oh, must you remind me? I itch from this ghastly material as is._
> 
> Mycroft scoffed as they waited for their luggage. “-- It’s crass and my senses are so off put by its sheer garishness I know it’s perfect. --”
> 
> Anthea grinned.
> 
> _She knew I would hate it._
> 
> “-- To be fair, you were off put by that lovely PA’s blouse yesterday and you know it. What did you call it? _Pollock by way of Pea Soup_. Oh, there are our bags. --” Anthea pointed. Mycroft retrieved the luggage and placed them by her feet.
> 
> “-- Oh, Mikhail, they’re filthy! --” Anthea stayed with Russian as she complained about the luggage. He watched as she took a few hand wipes from her purse. The wipe down hid the scanning of the small handheld device hidden in the purse hanging from her arm as she wiped down the bags. “-- What baboons handled these? This one looks like a gorilla kicked the side of it! --”
> 
> _The small bag was clean. The large bag was bugged._
> 
> He reached over and pulled the larger bag. “-- No, you are not getting a new set of luggage Ana! --”
> 
> “-- But Mikhail! --” Anthea whined as pulled the other bag and made a show of the filth on the near pristine wipes before she binned them.  
> 
> “-- Ana, we talked about this possibility. --” Mycroft rolled his eyes in mock exasperation “-- We continue according to plan. --”
> 
> Anthea sighed petulantly as she pulled shades over her eyes “-- Fine. --”
> 
> Once in the shuttle bus for their presumed hotel, the bug on the larger bag was picked off and handed off to an agent of Lady Smallwood’s, disguised as a fellow tourist. Once at the hotel for Mikhail and Anastacia, the Alexandrovs went through a side door and were picked-up by Lauren and Irvin to where they truly operated.

A code buzzed on the door and Hemmings rose to let Lauren into the room. She had been gone for four days only using non-verbal communications to check in. She gave single nods to Irvin and Anthea in acknowledgement, then fixed her gaze on Mycroft as she took her laptop out of her bag.

_She’s an omega who did not acknowledge the sole alpha in the room first and one that is her boss. She has news, but she’s also withholding something._

“Tell us. Be succinct.”

_Patience Holmes, let her tell it her way._

“Yes, sir. Let’s just say I am one of your best honey pots and hacker for a reason. Someone in the Peruvian National Police had a couple of very good nights. After some serious, but delicate hacking, I give you _this_ …”

She turned the screen to the room displaying blue prints for a manufacturing facility well outside of the city.

Mycroft’s eyes quickly took in the screen before them.

“So, that’s the façade.” Irvin noted. “What the real deal?”

“Good.” Lauren pressed a couple of keys and brought up more blueprints. “I think these are what we’re looking for.”

“A medical laboratory. Underneath a manufacturing plant.” Anthea flicked through the images. “I’m guessing you could not get to their cameras, get visual confirmation.”

Lauren looked pointedly to Mycroft and smiled.

The stranglehold on his heart loosened just a smidgen as he deduced exactly what she withheld.

A tight grimace formed as he growled low. “You have seen my brother?”

It really was not a question.

She took the laptop from Anthea and brought up a different schematic.

One that had a blinking dot.

“Yes, sir. I have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
> For those who forgot - in C40 you were introduced to some of the text codes used twixt Mycroft/Anthea/ Sherlock to keep Sherlock abreast of his brother’s well-being when Mycroft is otherwise incommunicado. Especially, when the Iceman is operating somewhere potentially dangerous. Unless an emergency, texts are sent once daily from burner phones – thus the unknown number. 
> 
> . – unknown number = Still incommunicado, but safe. Everything is as it should be - period.  
> &90 – unknown number = An ampersand and a number meant a person had that many minutes from the moment of the ping to call or text at the personal mobile which is otherwise shut off.  
> ! – unknown number = Drop everything and call now! Something BAD, in no uncertain terms, has happened.  
> = – MH. = Everything’s equal. Adding initials his means he is back in London and using his own personal devices. Another sign that everything is back to normal.  
> ^^ Return to paragraph.


	63. I Hear You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian Moran and Richard Brook have a few words for the captured Alpha John Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enough exposition - welcome to March Madness.

“Chain up!”

One of the assistants, name Chaplin, slid a heavy set of chains towards him on a flat rolling dolly.

_If only you were as silent as the actor in many of his films._

John learned most of the lower staff there had no clue who they worked for or why. They were small cogs who let someone else worry about the big picture. The major doctors and assistants worked under a threat either to themselves or their loved ones. They were civil enough to the differently captive John Watson with the exception was for Joshua Chaplin. Most of the staff simply did their jobs under the duress of whatever leverage Richard Brook held over them, with as minimum contact with John as possible for obvious safety reasons. Chaplin was a beta with a definite dislike for alpha males. While understandably wary of Sebastian, an alphastrained, atrophying John was ripe for his pettiness. Syringes and IV Needles plugs that could not seem to find a vein. Showers that suddenly went ice-cold moments after he stepped in. Waking to new cigarette burns when John knew Sebastian Moran had not been to the facility.

John suspected that Chaplin’s _dislike_ had gotten the man into some form of trouble which put him in Moran or Brook’s cross-hairs. The physical abuse stopped a couple days ago, now it was all words, unless Brook or Moran were also in the lab, then all went silent.

For the most parts scientists were scientists. The circumstances were far from ideal, but the dedication to their tasks, the scientific intrigue, the potential for new discovery were expressions he had seen on his omega. There was an odd camaraderie of professional joy, yet personal misery as they worked.

The top project of which was to somehow synthesize John’s blood. His having that unique enzyme that gives omega males a boost in physical strength, speed and agility and keep it.

At least it did until John began to seriously atrophy.

It took another two days of his body declining for Brook to be convinced John at least needed exercise. He wanted to be surprised that the gym setup around the lab was a duplicate of the machines he had at home, but he was not. While Mycroft may have honored John’s wish to not bug the house - Brook certainly had broken in and taken a good look around. More than a year of living with Sherlock – sans those hellish three months apart - had made John a bit more observant. He knew he would never be at Sherlock or Mycroft Holmes level, but was better than was before they met.  In fact, Brook was the one surprised when John had called him out on it.

_And I have observed something else you damned sure would not be happy about._

John was allowed to exercise for a couple of hours each day. Once in the morning and again in the late afternoon. He then enchained himself while six trigger happy armed guards stood at the ready to tranquilize him. John found out just how trigger happy the hard way when he fell and hit his head on a table edge after being accidentally shot with tranquilizers and received a nice gash on his forehead for it. At his best, he would might have been fast enough to dodge four. He knew he could not dodge six.

_And I am still not at my best._

It took at least two of the beta doctors to lift the chains, let alone attempt to get them on him while he was conscious. One was now on medical leave in a lesson the doctors learned the hard way. John had made it halfway to the exit before he was brought down. All agreed the repeated tranquilizing to keep him docile was too dangerous to continue for his longevity and for the purity of the experiments.

Richard Brook solved the issue.

He brought the alpha a shirt. Sherlock’s shirt.

John scented the shirt and would have cried with relief were he not also upset of what he could tell by the scent.

He could scent that Sherlock was hurt and that he also was atrophying. Not at the same rate as him, but had declined nonetheless. The implication was clear. John had to get better not only for his own sake, but for his omega and their pups. Yet they had to keep him restrained.

The moment he heard the chains the first time they were brought into the lab he knew. He and Moran were the only ones who could lift them on their own. They were heavy even by alpha standards. He could not move fast while in them.

So, they reached a compromise.

It was easier for John to chain himself and be frog-marched to be alphastrained again or they keep him tranquillized and whatever happens to him, to Sherlock and his pups happened…

John took the towel from the stationary bicycle handle and wiped his face, neck and chest. He was getting better, but he was still slightly winded when he knew he should not be.

John used his foot to stop the dolly before it crashed into his leg. Annoyed, he snarled at Chaplin as he reached down and snatched the chains at alpha speed and listened.

The sound of six guns taking aim was heard.

_In the same order as the last two times, Now I know who are the more trigger-happy._

He kept his face neutral as he stood up again a moment later his ankles chained.

“Jesus Christ! I was in the potential crossfire. You are a right bastard.” Chaplin had dropped to the floor when the guards reacted.

John looked to the man as he locked the connected restraints to his wrists. “Gee, that would have been _such_ a shame.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s my eyeball you want to use if you try to escape.”

_I made that decision days ago, dumb fuck._

“I hadn’t decided on whose eyeball, yet, but thanks for volunteering. I promise to be as gentle with you as you have been with me.” John blew a kiss to Chaplin.

Behind him one of guards whispered a heartfelt “¡Coño!”

Chaplin blanched.

Like nearly everything else he was escorted at multiple gunpoint to the showers where he was always given fresh pants, gym trousers and a t-shirt to wear while alphastrained. He gave a polite nod to the new raven-haired omega female who collected his things for washing after he dried off and changed.

_If only I could get those to my omega._

He knew better that to talk to her. His having spoken with the previous person is why there is now a new person.

<><><> 

“How is my omega? Do you know?” John quietly asked Yarrow, the only doctor there that had shown any form of distaste to his imprisonment and sympathy toward him, even in front of Richard Brook. They had John upright on the exam table again.

“I hear rumors. It is said there is a pregnant omega somewhere else, unlike most any have known. He made one guard cry, caused him to shoot another. Did you know he bit an alpha when they captured him? They say it took over a week for it to begin to heal.” Yarrow shrugged lightly as he hooked up another pint bag for blood withdrawal.

John frowned a little at the statement. Unless allowed to get infected, which no alpha would knowingly allow, most bites heal clean within a day or two.

“They say he is not as bad off as you, but he needs you.” Yarrow opened the release valve to start the flow of blood.

“Can you somehow get my shirt to him? Something to scent? Please!”

Yarrow looked stricken at the thought as he whispered fiercely, but low. “Not even if he were close enough. I could not. If Brook wanted it for him, he would have it provided as he had for you. I will not risk my family for your pack.”

Yarrow backed away quickly as the lab door opened. John could hear as Brook entered with Moran and conferred with a couple of people.

“Ah, it’s been a couple of days. I figured you must be doing a little better. You still look like shite.”  Sebastian as always came to stand by his table.

“Better or worse than Charikar?” John could not help but remember their one and only fight.

“Charikar...” Sebastian whistled in appreciation. “Damn we hurt each other badly and I know you were trying _not_ to kill me, you and your bloody honor.”

“My honor? You were holding back as well. Why?” John asked genuinely curious. Moran would have had a dishonorable discharge much sooner if he had bucked the rules and killed John back then, but absolutely no one would have been surprised. When they served there was a time he and Sebastian were, if not ever friends, at least cordial to each other.  He had always wondered what happened that Sebastian became so hostile to him, but not enough to actually ask, until now.

The former colonel was quiet for a while. His voice was low; strained when he finally spoke.

“Fuck it. You’re going to die in here. Doesn’t matter anymore. I once wanted you to find me worthying.” Sebastian admitted. “I never was in your eyes. So, I started to hate you. By Charikar I did.”

Moran whispered the next so quietly, John almost didn’t hear him “Never could seem to get you out of my system, though.”

John looked at Moran, but before he could fully process what Sebastian said, Richard Brook approached the table.

John closed his eyes, only thinking of Sherlock then, “He needs me.”

“Most people start off with a hello. Just because you’re a prisoner should not mean you cannot have manners.”

_This is hardly a meeting for high tea._

“Besides, it’s such a tired refrain, Watson and you know I have one of my best looking after him.”

_Victor Trevor._

John would not rise to the obvious taunt.

“Why?” John sighed “Why us? You’re not even core.”

John felt the man’s eyes on him and opened his again.

“The short answer? My brother was an omega that was beaten by his alpha. An alpha who got away with impoachment, because the alpha who lost him was too scared to testify. Not that either of them can say much of anything now. ”

John had not expected an answer. He sensed the ire as it rose in the man, and a sense of satisfaction.

_He killed the two alphas. One for being a coward, the other for being a bully._

“Omegas have been treated like fourth class citizens for too long because most cannot fight for themselves. Society is taking too long to catch up to basic rights other factions have had to fight for as well. I want to level the playing field at least physically. Let’s give the omegas a world where science and progress will lead to all men’s happiness. Not just betas and alphas. I get it that some omegas will never be able to match alpha levels, but for those that want the boost to defend themselves, and let’s be honest most will, I want to give them that. My brother might still be alive were he able to be boosted and better able to defend himself.”  

John sighed.

_That’s where I come in._

“You got it, Johnny boy, this is where you come in. You and the magic enzymes in your blood, and your blood only, are very special indeed.” Richard leaned against the exam table with seemingly casual ease, yet he stayed just out of John’s range. “Whodathunkit given your most Average Joe appearance as an alpha.”

John could see some of the reactions around the lab, behind Brook. Yarrow especially looked surprised.

_Apparently, Chatty Kathy here is an unusual occurrence._

“And you want my omega, specifically my pups. If my blood can’t be synthesized, perhaps their blood can.”

“Oh, you are a smart one! I’d say you and Moran here are comparable. I mean you’re both still idiots and all, but compared to most of what’s out there in the big bad world, you’re slow, but okay.”

John could not help the slight head shake having heard similar said about him from his own omega.

“But unless I and these fine people working here can create a synthetic that works as beautifully as your direct blood does, you’re in here for quite the while I’m afraid, doctor.”

John could all but hear Moran say “ _Told you_ ” from his expression.

_I am NOT spending the rest of my life in here._

“Ooooh! I can see that thought from a mile away Johnny boy.” Brook gave him an evil grin as he patted John’s cheek.

“Yes, you are.”  Brook sing-sang then turned and left the lab, Moran on his heels.

* * *

 

Sherlock laid on the bed in a slight sheen of sweat.

He had spent the days reviewing the scroll from memory, but could not concentrate. Sherlock has not felt the pups move in nearly twenty-four. He did not want to give into the fear that they may be in danger. The OmObGYN sent to check on him a couple of days before, explained that between the stress, the boredom and lack of contact with their alpha, the pups were draining their omega, taking what they can to survive, but they were healthy – for now.

“Oh, you look like shite.”

Sherlock barely moved when he heard the door open and close, but his head turned at the voice.

_Victor._

His former alpha looked tired as he entered with the cleaning woman, a new one. Sherlock looked at the raven-haired woman who gave him a cursory gaze, then went to work.

Something about the woman made Sherlock take notice even as he addressed Victor.

_She does not belong here._

“I want to see, John. I need to see my alpha.” Sherlock moaned, “Our pups need him. I need him.”

“Too bad.” Victor took a seat by the door, tranquilizer gun at the ready. If Sherlock moved towards or spoke to those who came to clean or deliver food he would be tranqed. That was a lesson learned from his first couple of days in the room.

One hand always on the swell of his abdomen as he searched for any sign of movement, Sherlock slowly sat up on the bed.

_I know you’re still with me my loves, but Daddy is getting worried._

“Arroyo has not been to see me in a week.” Sherlock responded to Victor. “What happens to his captive, if the three of us atrophy due to Arroyo’s negligence?”

They sat in silence listening to the cleaning woman sing. 

Sherlock who had only half listened to the woman’s singing as it increased in volume was about to yell at her to shut up when the lyrics caught his attention.

“- _Brothers, in the good and the bad,_  
Always united, always at hand,  
Without asking anything in return   
Brothers, sweet and bitter,   
We learned to listen to each other,   
And to understand each other without looking at each other  
And we will be together, fighting for what we love -”

At that moment Sherlock realized she was singing to him. Sherlock’s eyes flicked to Victor who yawned.

_He truly has no memory of me – of us. John would never forget me._

There was something about the first part that galled Sherlock even as the second part gave him an odd comfort in the absolute knowledge of it.

“I have no idea and frankly don’t care.” Victor shrugged.

“If Brook saw me he would.” Sherlock said low. “You need to tell him. If I atrophy further what does it do to the potential future of his experiments when my alpha goes into severance? Is that not why I’m being kept alive?”

_Just one little kick for Daddy? Just one?_

_Please!_

“Arroyo’s not allowing it or you’d have him. You must be really sick to not have figured that out – I mean since you supposed to this big genius and all.” Victor taunted.

Sherlock refused to rise to the bait from his erstwhile alpha.

Sherlock made a seemingly painful move to sit at his desk. He gave full his attention to the woman when as he realized she had repeated the same verses.

 _“- When you were born, I was seven years old,_  
What a great joy! I would soon have a brother,  
And you arrived in the early morning  
On sixth of January  
And so great was that dream  
As I took you in my arms,  
For I had always wanted a little brother… -”

Sherlock put his head in his free hand to shield his face as relief and hope flooded him.

_Mycroft! She’s one of his minions, I've met her!_

The woman exited the washroom tossing the used flannels and towels in her cart. She pointed to the bed, but had addressed Victor. “¿Senor… la sábana?”

Victor glared at Sherlock as he used the tranquilizer gun to point to the desk.

_He knows I can’t fight him and if I don’t move voluntarily, he will move me by force._

He made a slight show of how his chained ankle dragged as he exaggeratedly the pain and moved to the desk and sat.

With her back to Victor, linens held in front of her, she seemingly approached the bed warily. He watched her carefully as she moved. Her fingers flew with nervous energy as she spoke to him in coded sign as she changed the sheets on the bed.

Sherlock knew he slowly atrophied because of John. He had played up the symptoms, in the ploy to get him closer to his alpha. Yet it was the honest moan that escaped him as he understood what she told him without words that had the most effect. He waited until she was on her way back to the cart before he spoke again.

“Why are you even here?” Sherlock snapped at Victor in want of _his_ alpha, not the one before him. “Surely your boss can find an underling to babysit an omega, a pregnant omega at that.”

“Look, the sooner you and your pups are out of here, alive or otherwise, the sooner I get back to my life. Arroyo seemed to think my presence annoyed you. As usual, he was right.”

Victor used one fingernail to clean underneath the nails of the opposite hand and flicked whatever found to the floor. It was a habit his Victor used to have. One that used to get under Sherlock’s skin.

And apparently still did.

Victor looked up, saw Sherlock’s face, stared the omega in the eyes, and purposely flicked a microscopic something to the floor.

“For God’s sake!” Sherlock picked up a box of tissues and threw it at the alpha “It was a disgusting habit when we were married! If you must attend to your personal grooming in my presence, either deposit the offal on a tissue to be tossed away or consume it as would the simian whose behavior you emulate, but must you flick it to the floor?” Sherlock glared at the man icily.

Too late he realized his slip.

“What did you say?” Victor’s eyes narrowed.

“When… I was married to my first, alpha…” Sherlock gasped weakly as he started to stand on wobbly legs and slid to the floor in a heap. “Alpha…”

“Holmes?” for the first time Victor looked concerned. He turned to the woman “- Get out! -”

She grabbed her cart and fled the room.

Sherlock let Victor lift him from the floor. The alpha carried him to the bed as he continued to moan for his alpha.

He curled into ball as Victor placed him down on the bed. He knew Victor would have to leave the room for assistance. As soon as he did he reached under the pillow for what the cleaning woman, whose name was Lauren, had left for him. Two capsules and a flannel in sealed plastic bag.

Even if he had not read the signed instructions given, Sherlock knew what they were. He took one capsule immediately, grateful for the water he had kept by the bed so he did not have to dry swallow either capsule. He did not want to be caught out of bed if Victor came back sooner than expected.

Next, he opened the seal on the plastic bag.

_Alpha!_

He nearly sobbed when his alpha’s scent hit him. He grabbed the flannel to his heart first in gratitude, then immediately opened the flannel fully and laid it on his abdomen under his shirt.

“Please! It’s not much, I know, but please!” He rubbed his hand over the flannel on his skin, hoped the added warmth helped as he pleaded.

_“{My loves please!}”_

The first feel was faint, Sherlock was not quite sure if it were real or just his wishful thinking.

The next was a more solid fluttering.

The third was definite movement.

Sherlock nearly bawled with relief.

_My little ones… Thank you… Forgive me now…_

When Victor returned minutes later he found the flannel on the floor and the omega tear stained and unconscious.

<><><><>

Sherlock woke in a new room.

He was immediately alert as the twins were very active.

Active in the way they only were when they felt their…

_Oh God, John!_

_I feel John!_

“{ALPHA…‽ JOHN‽}”

The emotions flowed in torrent of pure alpha as Sherlock felt John’s response to him even before he John’s voice clear as a bell in mind.

“{SHERLOCK!! OMEGA!!}”

Joyful tears fall from Alpha and Omega.

“{I HEAR YOU!}”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta Amplewoman who found the most perfect song when I asked her to find something for me that fit.
> 
> In case you had not figured it out, the omega cleaning woman is Mycroft’s team member, Lauren McParland. The lyrics she sings are from the song [_En Lo Bueno Y En Lo Malo (Hermanos)/ The Good and The Bad (Brothers)_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWFtlqZJ6i8) from the brother/sister duo Pimpinela. 
> 
> Lauren purposely paraphrased the lyrics to suit the situation, but look up the lyrics. Ignoring genders, the original lyrics are almost as if Mycroft and Sherlock wrote it themselves.


	64. Thieves in the Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha Mycroft Holmes loathed leg work, but he was damned good at it when needed. When Alpha John Watson and his Omega Sherlock Holmes are kidnapped - it's needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you –looking at you Dclements01 who rightfully called me a tease 😂 lol– have read the first half of this chapter as a one-shot in my Mystrade prompt series. Now you get to read the whole thing.

Mycroft Alexander David Holmes.

He knows exactly who he is. Groomed since his preteens to be The Iceman.

Not even those that groomed him expected the ascension of the man who soon be known as Antarctica.

Give Mycroft a game board with players, a map with totems, crossed boards with effigies that dangled from strings, provide him with facts and figures, and then step back. That is where he excelled.

That the game pieces were people and politicians with the game boards being cities and countries was irrelevant.

The Iceman made no bones about it. He may not be the one who personally pulled the trigger anymore, but he will sometimes subtlety - sometimes ruthlessly, set the targets.

Why? Because of one of the other things he knew about himself.

Mycroft loathed legwork.

Loathed it with a passion.

It was one of the many reasons why he had minions for that thing. Minions and on occasion, Sherlock - with the mandatory use of bribes or the incentive of a case rated at least an 8.5 on his brother’s priority scale, of course.

Even Watson had gone with his omega on an unsanctioned rescue mission in hostile territory. Both alpha and omega came out of it with a better understanding and respect of the other’s capabilities. The doctor of course complained before, during and after, but the detective and the Iceman knew the former captain loved every single bloody adrenaline filled minute of it.

It was a love Mycroft most certainly did not share, but an ability he was damned good at when needed.

Enemies have died at his hands, regimes have toppled at his words. As long as his beloved United Kingdom, her territories and specifically Mummy and his brother were safe he slept well.

It was all well within the scope of his professional vein.

Mycroft had decided from the beginning of his career he would not love. He knew what the world was and would not risk it. His pack consisted solely of Mummy and Sherlock and by extension Victor Trevor, his brother’s childhood friend and eventual husband until Victor died – or rather they thought he had. Now Sherlock had John as his alpha and they were having pups. Yes, that made them Watson’s pack technically, but eventually even Watson knew anything that belonged to Sherlock Holmes by right or blood would be protected by Mycroft to the death.

Due to Moriarty/Brook's scheming and Sir Edwin's treachery, Victor Trevor had been taken and brain washed, and then Sherlock and John had been kidnapped with no hope of ransom. Whether the two men plotted together or for their individual agendas, Mycroft did not care. Together the two men came after his family, his _pack_.

This was personal.

His nemesis had followed textbook procedure when he separated a bonded Alpha/Omega pair. It was a common ploy to get one – usually the omega – to yield before the pain of atrophy or severance began. It was usually only done for six days at the max. Though Sir Edwin knew he was not dealing with an ordinary omega, separation was a risk that was never supposed to be used on a pregnant omega.

Yet, Sir Edwin had done exactly that.

At twenty-three days – Mycroft knew John and Sherlock had to be desperate for contact with each other.

This was very personal.

As such, the puppet master was adamant that this was one operation he would pull the strings and the triggers on personally.

Lauren had left Sherlock with two contingency capsules to ingest. One to mimic the exacerbated symptoms of atrophy without harm. He would be in such a state they would have no choice but to get Sherlock near his alpha.

The second capsule was a tracker with a 72-hour lifespan. Sherlock would know exactly what they were and how to use them. Having removed or disabled all known trackers, Mycroft counted on their medical team not thinking to scan for a new device. They had twenty-four hours to put everything together and another twenty-four hours to execute it before the risk of losing the device.

The cartographer and his unit were in teams that either surrounded or were already in the facility in position. This was an intricate set of dominos laid out and the first pieces have toppled over.

He looked at the flashing dot on the hand-held device and nodded to Anthea.

She began the countdown.

That flashing dot was his brother. Find Sherlock and then use their bond to find John.

_I’m coming for you Sherlock, you and your alpha. Hold on, Brother Mine._

Mycroft knew he would have to make it up to Lady Smallwood for the waste of her resources to send Sir Edwin’s spies on a wild goose chase to the end of the world in Ushuaia1, but he also knew she would understand the need to not tip off his quarry. With a less than 24-hour deadline in the balance, the Iceman called in a good deal of favors owed as ploys and moves were made.

McParland and Hemmings may have gawked at his apparel at the airport, but not one person on the newly expanded team so much as batted an eyelash when he emerged from his vehicle as armed to the teeth as the rest of them. Everyone understood.

If Omega Sherlock Holmes and Alpha John Watson did not come out of this alive it was because every single one of them there was dead.

There was no question: _the piper was about to be paid._

Antarctica was the epitome of his codename as he exchanged a look with Anthea. They were currently in radio silence. He looked at his pocket watch. There would be no communication for the next few minutes as all goes to plan.

It is the longest minutes of Mycroft’s life, with the final seconds, utter torture.

5.....

4....

...

..

.

_Cut._

Mycroft’s smile was predatory as the building started to go dark.

The chess master lifted his hand and moved the first player on the board – himself.

_Game on._

* * *

 

Sherlock’s new room was like the previous. He still had one ankle chained that gave him access to the washroom, but did not reach the main door which required biometrics to enter or exit.

For the moment he did not care.

After twenty-four hours of being exposed to his alpha again, Sherlock felt whole. He and John had been in constant internal conversation until one or the other fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Having full contact with John now he understood why Brook was seemingly negligent. Keeping he and John just healthy enough for his experiments, but only just so. Just enough to keep them, especially John, within his control. 

_And me preoccupied with the health of twins who are moving again._

Until that lovely little capsule gave Brook no choice. Brooks fear of losing John through severance and atrophy was greater than his fear of either of them being healthier if it gets him what he wants.

_Thank you, Lauren. Okay Mycroft. We’re waiting for your cue._

Sherlock is not surprised it is Victor who arrives with his meal. Brook is taking pleasure in torturing Sherlock's present with his and Victor's past.

_He looks exhausted._

“Now who looks like shite?” Sherlock threw Victor's words back at him.

“So not in the mood for you today, Holmes.” Victor put the tray down, then moved to the door and sat wearily as he idly rubbed the bite mark on his wrist. It reminded Sherlock of how he stroked his own bond bite when he thought of John sometimes. Sherlock nearly sighed as he remembered the night of their bonding – remembered the moment John’s possession of him was complete.

 “{ _Remember_ my blood always. You are _mine_.}” Sherlock said aloud in remembrance.

“Always.” Victor whispered then blinked and looked up “Wait… what?”

“Nothing. Remembering something my alpha said to me.” Sherlock shook his head lightly.

It was odd how different this man was from the one he once loved, yet so much of him was the same.

Like the slight wrinkle between the brows that always meant lack of sleep due to nightmares.

“Nightmares. You’ve been reliving the fire.”

Victor shook his head at first in denial, but then nodded.

“Haven’t been really sleeping well for a couple of weeks now. Guess, it’s catching up to me.” He yawned, “Fuck! Why did I just tell you that? I must really be tired. Stay the fuck out of my head.”

Sherlock sat at the table where Victor had placed the tray. The table was in what Sherlock called neutral territory. Victor could walk past the table to his side, but for some reason did not seem to want to. Sherlock could only walk but so far along the table. It was a problem when it was the other side that had the dinner tray Victor placed out of his reach.

The table was too heavy to tilt. He could not get the tray to slide towards him. Victor watched amused as Sherlock struggled for a moment to reach.

“Trouble, omega?”

_You always were snarky and mean when sleep deprived._

“ _{Get up,_ Victor _._ _Bring me the tray._ Go wherever it is you go. _}_ ” Sherlock plopped into his chair annoyed.

Victor stood after a moment and walked to the table. He brought the tray over and placed it in front of the omega.

“Thank you for your kindness.” Sherlock snarked as he uncovered the dish.

Victor mumbled something and went back to his seat by the door. Sherlock watched as the alpha’s head slowly drooped as sleep attempted to take him. Victor startled awake and nearly fell out of the chair when Sherlock had purposely let his utensils clatter to the tray.

“God, you’re such a bastard!” Victor ran a hand over his face.

Sherlock’s head snapped to him in the not so distant memory as he recalled the many times Victor jokingly, and not so jokingly, said those exact words to him in their years together.

_But not your bastard anymore._

Sherlock pushed the tray as far to the other end as he could reach. He went back to the bed, but Victor still had not moved.

“I’m tired. I need to go.” Victor stood tiredly. He retrieved the tray and left without another word.

Sherlock shook his head and dismissed him as soon as the door closed. He could feel John was still asleep. Yes, their connection was helping them both heal, but he knew John needed the rest after all their mental activity. He did not want to wake him, so he went into his mind palace where he had stored a replica of the scroll.

His mind traced the various curlicues, whorls, lines, blocks, cross-hatches etc. of the design as he remembered how the cuentista showed him to read the scroll.

> \-- First battle.
> 
> \-- Dalryc becomes king.
> 
> \-- Aemilus fights an alpha.
> 
> \-- Aemilus bit the alpha.

Sherlock frowned a moment seeing John’s birthmark surround a symbol for alpha. Then realized it must mean several bites.

> \-- Aemilus bit the alpha – repeatedly.
> 
> \-- Aemilus fights another alpha.
> 
> \-- Aemilus fights another alpha.

Odd squiggly lines lead from Aemilus to the first and third alphas bit. Sherlock could not figure out the first alpha. The third alpha seemed to stand in place as his own men killed him.

Unable to interpret further Sherlock moved in to another section.

> \-- Some amount of time passed.
> 
> \-- Army. Cahriah’s Army.

One symbol for Cahriah is surrounded by omega with the odd squiggles, another by beta with no squiggles, and a third by alpha with the odd squiggles.

Sherlock to Cahriah’s symbol with Moritz and saw the same squiggle.

Sherlock gasped as he understood.

_Bonding! The squiggles are bonds! He figured it out during the first battle that put Dalryc on the throne._

_Aemilus Cahriah could bond omega and alpha alike._

_So why wouldn’t any of the alphas tell someone?_

The answer came to him in memory.

[“She was livid, but because I had compelled her not to tell anyone what I could do she was stuck.”]

_Cahriah could compel omega and alpha alike that he had bonded._

Sherlock went over the rest of the scroll when a sharp pain yanked Sherlock out of his mind palace.

He looked to his wrist where Victor has it in a painful grip. He had not heard the alpha enter the room.

_“{Let go of me!}”_

Sherlock was surprised, but Victor was utterly confused when he inexplicably did exactly that.

Sherlock slowly stood before his former alpha as a most interesting deduction came to him.

_“{Release me, Victor.}”_

“What? No! I can’t! Arroyo will kill me!” Victor squinted in a way Sherlock knew from one personal experience meant the alpha had a headache and from a different personal experience knew exactly what caused the headache.

“{Victor, I promise you, that pain you feel? It is only going to get worse until you yield to me. _Unchain me_ and _DO IT NOW_!}”

Sherlock felt it as Victor complied, first in his heart, then in his actions as Alpha Victor Trevor dropped to his knees before Omega Sherlock Holmes and released him from the chain.

 _"_ Remember how it felt when you tried to resist. _{Tell no one what I can do. You will not hurt or kill me, nor John. You will help me. Now, get me out of here_ } before it’s too late. _”_

Sherlock watched Victor wince as he tried to resist. He knew how much it hurt him, but as Sherlock had learned the hard way after John had silenced him, Victor would have to learn.

Victor breathed out in relief as the pain abated with his acquiescence, but his confusion and chagrin were palpable.

“What have you done to me?” Victor stood before Sherlock confused and angry, clearly wanting to hurt Sherlock, but no longer can. Sherlock observed Victor with fascination. The alpha's calmed breath came faster this time. He had begun to learn.

John’s words came back to Sherlock.

 [“I remember thinking –  _is this how the devil feels when he plays with souls_?”]

He felt his Alpha’s waking.

“{Omega?}” John’s voice reached Sherlock in his mind questioningly.

“{Yes, Alpha?}”

“{I feel something different. Are you allri…?}”

Sherlock and Victor glanced around as the power in the room flickered. Lauren had warned him.

_Mycroft is here._

Sherlock gasped as a feeling of darkness laced through his psyche.

Sherlock _knew_.

Sherlock _knew_ the restraints that held his alpha had failed.

Sherlock _knew_ what then leaped from those restraints was no longer his alpha.

Sherlock _knew_ instinctively what happened when coherent thoughts could not.

Sherlock _knew_ what was coming for him and _purred_ in anticipation.

Sherlock _knew_ as he looked to Victor and darkly smiled.

"Holmes..." Victor stepped back from him warily.

“{OMEGA!}”

Sherlock _knew._

“Too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Ushuaia is a resort town in Argentina. Located on the southernmost tip of South America, it is commonly regarded as the southernmost city in the world and nicknamed the “End of the World.”  
> ^^Return to Paragraph


	65. I’ve Got My Own Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After three weeks in captivity Alpha John Watson is free from his restraints. It's going to be... a bit not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: The monster is free – it’s gonna get _Bloody_.

By the time the backup generators started to engage minutes later, A63-710908 was no longer restrained.

He was not quite whole, he knew what he needed. He could not see in the dark, but he could scent and pinpoint each individual fear around him.

And it made him _hungry_.

The two with the tranquilizer guns were first. He was silent with the first kills. By the time a body fell, he was onto the next.

The monster was on his fifth kill when someone finally screamed and set off a wave of panic.

He could hear as they scrambled in the dark for the one door, but in their panic, could not find the manual override to escape.

Panic erupted anew when an intrepid sort thought to use his mobile for light and saw… _things_.

By the time the man realized he really did not want to see it coming – it no longer mattered.

There were seventeen people in the lab. The monster had just finished his next to the last kill when the emergency power came on.

The last kill, who crept along a wall as he tried to find the exit, froze when the power came back on and flooded the glass walled room with light revealing the fresh crimson all around.

Paralyzed with fear, he watched as death approached with lethal speed and unsheathed claws that dripped with the detritus of several kills and a much too bloodied mouth that smiled upon him.

It would have taken tweezers and confirmation at the DNA level to identify all the parts to the corresponding bodies in the formerly pristine lab. At least the parts that they might have been able to find. Some were in a place most would never think to look. And the ones who might have thought of where to look…? They most certainly were not going to ask to see.

A63-710908 heard when the lock reengaged just as he made good on a promise with his last kill in the room. He dragged the upper half of the body of Joshua Chaplin to the door. He used the dead man’s retina to open it and then tossed the torso aside.

After that A63-710908, aka the monster, wanted only one thing.

“{OMEGA!}”

* * *

With one hand tight on Sherlock’s upper arm Victor opened the bedroom door and blustered his way past the guard there.

_“{Take me to him.}”_

Sherlock pushed the thought harder when he felt Victor wanted to resist.

They were down a corridor when Sherlock felt the first hints of his alpha approaching fast.

“If you want to live, I suggest you turn and run in the other direction now.”

“Why what’s coming?”

“My monster.”

The corridor pitched into blackness.

Sherlock didn’t think.

He swung.

And in the pitch black he felt when his elbow connected with the alpha’s jaw.

He heard when the alpha hit the floor.

Sherlock reached out for a wall and followed it.

“{OMEGA!}”

“{ALPHA!}”

It was an odd sort of Marco-Polo as they sensed each other through their bond.

Sherlock kept one hand in constant contact with the wall, the other hand extended…

Outstretched…

Reached...

Then he heard noise, too much noise.

Multiple people, too many.

He felt when his alpha moved and heard when someone screamed.

“{ _Omega_!}”

It was not so much that Sherlock heard the word as he felt the raw sensations of thought and emotion with touches of compel. Sherlock realized Alpha wanted him to stay in place and listen, so he did.

Sherlock heard more noises. A familiar growl and the sounds of physical fighting.

Then the very familiar sounds of guns being drawn and he knew.

_They’re wearing thermal imaging goggles. Alpha is surrounded._

_No! We were so close! So close!_

“Come out Sherlock. I have your alpha.” taunted a familiar voice.

_Sebastian Moran._

Sherlock took a step forward.

The odd raw emotions reached him again. He felt it, _“{Silence. Run. Live.}”_

“{Alpha?}”

The omega was slammed as the monster spoke-emoted-compelled him again with non-words.

_“{NO! PROTECT OUR PACK!!}”_

The alpha’s compel was so forceful Sherlock stopped immediately, the pain as he resisted hit him hard.

Sherlock almost yelled when someone grabbed his arm, until he heard the codes spoken and relaxed.

_Someone from Mycroft’s team. Agent Hemmings._

He felt a mask as it slipped over his head. He now had thermal vision also.

Sherlock felt more of the raw emotions rather than words. He knew it was love.

It felt…final.

_I do NOT accept that!_

“{Tell me to my face, Alpha!}”

Sherlock and Hemmings ran.

“Seriously. You’re going to try to run!” 

Sherlock heard Sebastian’s yell as well and the alpha’s rapidly approaching footsteps.

“Go!” Hemmings ordered as he pushed the omega forward and then moved behind Sherlock, prepared to block.

He understood that Hemmings was trying to buy him time. It was a beta against an alpha, but Sherlock did not have time explain the agent’s folly.

Sherlock ran.

He had a second’s warning to snatch his headgear off as the power game back on. He knew, contrary to popular belief, he would not go temporarily blind and continued to run.

The cursing and sudden stop of running feet behind him told the less experienced were unprepared for the googles to go completely greenish white or completely black from the sudden light amplification as someone stumbled or fell.

Colonel Sebastian Augustus Moran was not inexperienced. The former soldier had barely broken stride.

Sherlock heard as a shot rang out. He heard it connect with a body. He heard when that body dropped to the floor.

_Hemmings._

Sherlock was on his own.

He ran.

Another shot rang out that was much too close.

“{OMEGA!}”

The alpha’s fear was evident, Sherlock realized he had heard the shots.

“{Alpha, I’m alive!}”

The relief was immense, but short lived.

“{I feel you. You are about to be captured, I know. Don’t make him shoot you.}”

“You’re fast for an omega, I’ll give you that, but you’re never going to out run an alpha!” Sebastian’s heavy footfalls rapidly caught up.

“{We will see each other soon.}” John promised. _“{Stay alive!}”_

Sherlock had run back the way he came. In the direction of his room.

Back toward Victor and the guard who both held guns aimed at him for a kill shot.

_Did it take? Would he kill me? Can he?_

He felt his former alpha’s tension and knew Victor suffered the pain of resistance.

_Victor can’t._

On the other hand, Sherlock knew the other guard would shoot him.  He dropped to his knees.

“Reid and Trevor, I will deal with you two on how the bloody hell he got out of his room later.” Sebastian snarled at the two men as he grabbed Sherlock by the neck.

“As for you, you bitch. You know we all have orders not to kill you – for now. But there is a lot I can make you, your alpha and your pups suffer through. Please, I beg of you - try me. I’ll risk Arroyo’s wrath.” Sebastian squeezed hard enough to make his point as he pulled Sherlock to his feet. “Now move!”

Three alphas and two betas formed a loose circle around Sherlock as Moran lead the way to Arroyo.

Sherlock tried to reach out to John.

“{Alpha?}”

Sherlock felt nothing from his alpha but dark rage, but he felt it.

_How deep has he dropped?_

It felt darker than anything he had felt from John before.

And it felt… _good_.

Sherlock instinctively bowed his head as an idea came to him.

_Yessss. That should work._

Lips parted, he succumbed to the pleasure of the darkness.

And let himself slick.

It was not long before Victor growled low behind him.

“Oh fuck.” one of the guards behind him, another alpha, sniffed. “Colonel?”

Sherlock scented the beginnings of two different Alpha Ruts in the air and whined in encouragement.

Sebastian stopped the procession and turned.

He took a small sniff and drew his gun on the two alphas behind Sherlock.

“Trevor. Clarke. When’s the last time you shot down?” Sebastian snarled.

Victor’s growl was more pronounced, but he took a step back.

“Nooo.” The alpha name Clarke took a step forward.

“Clarke… Don’t. I will put you down.” Sebastian warned.

Sherlock was seemingly in bliss, unaware of the scene around him.

“Alpha…” he purred.

Behind him, Sherlock did not see the nod Victor gave Sebastian, but heard when he backed away and ran in the other direction.

“He smells…delicious. I want…”

Sherlock did hear as Clarke took a step forward.

It was his last step. Ever.

Sebastian pulled the trigger.

Sherlock bit his bottom lip, his laugh a wicked rumble as Clarke’s body dropped.

“Anyone else want a piece? Reid? Escobar?” Sebastian snarled tightly at the two remaining guards with them, both betas. Both of whom quickly asserted their immunity to the omega’s call.

“Are _you_ okay, colonel? A beta guard, Reid, asked Sebastian instead.

“What the fuck does it look like?” he responded as grabbed the omega by the arm and pushed him forward. “Are you quite done with your shite?”

_He is on Alpha suppressants. It won’t work with him._

“It was worth a try. I got one downed and one away.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, all pretense at omega seduction gone.

“You’re a crafty bastard I’ll give you that. Don’t make me shoot you. Remember alive is not the same as unharmed.”

As they continued to the designated area, Sebastian received news through his communicator that did not seem like good news.

They met up with others from Sebastian’s team as they approached a door.

Sherlock took a sniff, “Oh, it smells like you now have a bigger problem, Moran.”

Sebastian opened the door, looked inside, and cursed vehemently.

Sherlock looked to Sebastian and smirked.

“Stalemate.”

* * *

 

The facility was mostly a science research laboratory no one but those who worked there knew about. It had tight security at the highest levels projects but for the most part, once let in it was easy to move around the corridors. Still, the windowless corridors, like the lab were a near seamless opaque aqua glass hexagon where walls and doors looked alike.

The doctor knew he was in danger.

The captain knew he was hurt and in danger

John knew he was hurt, Sherlock was hurt, his pups in danger and had to get out.

Unfortunately, what was not known was which of the seamless doors lead to his omega or to freedom.

All A63-710908, otherwise known as The Monster, knew was that anyone in his way was dead.

There were more bodies in his wake as evidence.

A series of signals was heard.

Lights that had flickered off and on in sections as he searched went out completely.

The entire facility went black again.

He _knew_.

He padded softly down the corridor staying close to the outer wall and listened.

He stopped as a door opened and he heard footsteps.

Several of them.

“He’s loose and looking for his pack. I want that omega locked down and surrounded! I want that alpha alive! If anyone kills that alpha, you better put a bullet in your own head and spare me using one of mine! You know what to look for. Let’s go!”

_Moran._

He scented enough to know it was more than he could likely outrun if they all shot at him. He breathed a sigh of relief as their footsteps went further down the corridor.

He heard a door as it slid open opposite him.

“What are you doing? We’re on lockdown. We have to stay out of the corridors. One of their experiments got loose!” a woman hissed.

“The loo is just two doors down. I gotta take a piss!” a man responded.

“And what if _whatever_ it is - is in there?”

“I’ll guess I’ll have the piss or shite scared out of me then won’t I? At least I’ll be in the right place for a clean-up.”

“You’re disgusting! Off you pop then, hurry back.”

The man took a couple of steps before the bright light of a mobile illuminated part of the long corridor.

It was empty.

The monster waited until the man slipped into the washroom and the door closed behind him before he moved again.

He reached out and felt for his omega’s presence.

“{OMEGA!}”

“{ALPHA!}”

The two did an internal call and response and brought themselves closer.

Too late he heard multiple doors open simultaneously.

Unexpectedly there were other scents. Several alpha and beta all with guns.

Multiple scents.  Too many scents.

One that belonged to Sebastian Moran.

He knew he was surrounded.

A63-710908 did not think.

He _moved_.

He leaped up hoping for a wall to slide around them, it turned out to be a person.

Something that felt and sounded like bone snapped and there was a scream.

“{Omega!}”

He dropped back into his monster too quickly.

Even as mindspeak it was less the formation of actual words and more guttural sounds and base emotion with mixed with compel.

_-omega-stay-nomove-omega-good-omega-_

At some instinctual level he knew he was heeded.

Then he let loose.

 _-snarl-swing-leap-punch-bonebreak-KILL-toomany-_ pain _-break-kick-slash-_ _KILL-maskcrushnosee-bite-hit-painpainpain-hit-_ _KILL -toomany-hit-gouge-armsnap-gougue-hurt-slash-crush-growl-_ _KILL -_

_-gun-gun-gun-gun-gun-gun-gun-gun-_

Somewhere the soldier within him knew some of these guns were not tranquilizers.

_killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou_

“That’s right dog. I am done playing with you.” Sebastian snarled.

He is not hearing actual words, only feeling the anger from the other alpha, still, the monster bristled at the slur, his rumble threatened even as he felt the direct contact of two different gun barrels to his head in the dark.

_killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou_

There was little other sound for a moment other than the monster’s continued growl and their breathing.

He sensed his omega close. Too close.

_-omega-omega-omega-omega-omega-_

He was not the only one.

“Come out Sherlock. I have your alpha.” Sebastian taunted.

He felt as his omega took a step forward to come to him.

_“{-no-silencenow-no-quietnow-run-run-run-run-run-live-live-live-live-live-}”_

“{Alpha?}”

_“{-PROTECTPACK-NO-NO-PROTECTPACK-PROTECTPACK-NO-NO-PROTECTPACK-}”_

He could sense that someone had come near his Omega.

_-who-who-beta-beta-who-omega-nofear-nofear-friend-beta-run-omega-friend-beta-run-run-_

_-love-omega- love-omega- love-omega- love-omega- love-omega-_

“{Tell me to my face, Alpha!}”

He felt as his omega turned with the beta and ran.

_-run-run-omega-run-beta-run-run-_

“Seriously. You’re going to try to run!”  Sebastian sounded incredulous and not in the least amused.

John had no clue how close he had come to being shot from two different directions when he twitched as Sebastian spoke.

_-run-run-run-run-run-_

_-killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou-_

“Take him to Arroyo. If you have to put the dog down permanently, do so. I will deal with any fallout from Arroyo.” 

_-gun-gun-toomany-gun-gun-toomany-toomany-toomany-gun-gun-_

He followed the scent of Sebastian. He bodily turned as the mercenary slowly circled the outside of the armed men that surrounded him before he signaled two others and went after the omega.

_killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou killyou-_

“Move.” Someone poked him with the barrel of a rifle.

_-gun-gun-toomany-gun-gun-toomany-toomany-toomany-gun-gun-_

“Don’t.” Another poke with the rifle barrel warned.

He was guided by gun barrels that poked him in the desired directions.

He heard the hum moments before another alpha who also felt it called out a warning “Lights.”

He heard rapid movement as googles were removed as the facility powered on again. Still, some who had not got the message in time to react cursed or stumbled.

A shot rang out in the distance that he knew was not a tranquilizer. He felt his omega’s fear. Then another shot rang out.

“{OMEGA!}”

The panic had brought him out a level as the alpha braced himself when there was no immediate response.

The alpha whine grateful for the lack of severance that told him his omega lived, just before he heard him mindspeak.

“{Alpha, I’m alive!}”

“{I feel you. You are about to be captured, I know. Don’t make him shoot you.}”

“Don’t even…”  A third and fourth gun barrel pointed at him when he stopped.

“{We will see each other soon.}” He promised as they moved again.

He scented the room as they passed.

 _-fun-fun-chase-_ _catch-blood-taste-kill-fun-fun-_

“And he’s partially atrophied?” “He did that single-handedly?” “Jesus fucking Christ!”

“There was what - a dozen or so people in there?” “My God!” “Did he…? Did he do what I think…?”

He felt the combined revulsion, anger, respect and fear of those that surrounded him as they passed the remains in the lab. He also felt the increased tensions toward him as they passed the upper half of Joshua Chaplin outside of the lab.

One of the mercenaries came to a door, opened it, closed it quickly and cursed.

The Alpha could scent several inside the room. Not all of them alive. He growled appropriately at the one scent he did recognize as they entered the room.

“Took you long enough to get here. Where’s Sebastian?” Hands in his trouser pockets, he spoke casually as he stood in the middle of the room, his demeanor relaxed.

Brook was so cavalier about it one would not guess he, and an beta male - obviously one of his men, faced off against an omega female and a beta male he did not know. None could move without all of them dying.

The mercenary who opened the door, opened his communicator, “Colonel, you need to get here. We have a problem…”

* * *

  
“Well, this is fun.” Sebastian placed a gun against Sherlock’s head as held the door open and saw the stalemate.

“{Omega.}”

“{Alpha.}”

John stood surrounded by mercenaries, all with the guns pointed at him. Not all the guns were tranquilizers.

“I’d suggest only taking me in there at gunpoint. You have another alpha in there and I will still be an omega longer than any suppressant can last. Too many people, with too many guns, make for far too much trigger happy stupid in the room.” Sherlock raised an imperious brow, “but I’m just an omega, what do I know?”

Sebastian turned to his men, “Stay here and…”

“No.” Sherlock interrupted, “They go away. Far enough away that they cannot come in gun blazing because a warning shot went off. You know who they are – it won’t work.”

Brook and the beta guard next to him placed their guns directly to John’s temple as Brook ordered the others out of the room. If John moved he was dead.

“Regrettably, the omega is correct. I trust your control Moran. No one else.” Brook turned slow to look at Moran. “Sebastian, we’ve reached _all_. Bring the omega in.”

The way Brook said it Sherlock knew it was code for something. From the way Moran reacted to it, he knew it was something dire as Sebastian brought him into the room.

Then he understood.

“{They have reached _All or Nothing,_ Alpha. Either they die here or…}”

“{There is no OR. You must live.}”

Sherlock heard the unspoken in John’s words.

“{No! I will be alive, but there is no living. Not without you.}”

He felt his alpha’s pang at the words and then his resolve.

_“{There is no OR, Sherlock. The pack will live. You are my pack.}”_

“Yes, alpha.” Sherlock bowed his head at the force of the compelling.

He was to do everything possible for him and his pups to live.

Even if it meant sacrificing John.

_THAT is not going to happen, Alpha!_

Sebastian turned to his men in the corridor “Nunez. Take them back to the office. Tell Ramona you need access to the “All” on my desk. If she has not heard from me or Brook in an hour she’ll know we’re… She’ll know what to do.”

There was a lot of grumbling as they disagreed with the course of action, until Brook started to scream from inside the room. “If you want your compensation you’ll go. Anyone not at the office when that file opens gets nothing. DO IT!”

“You’ll hear from us in an hour. Don’t worry.” Sebastian said confidently, “Close the door behind us and go.”

Sebastian pulled Sherlock further into the room and the door closed behind them. Sherlock quickly scanned the room. Lauren and a beta male agent Sherlock did not know had taken positions by a different door. The laser sites of their guns aim on the mad man - Lauren’s on Brook’s forehead, the other agent aimed at Brook’s heart, respectively.

Brook and his alpha guard had their gun barrels directly to opposite sides of John’s head. John at his best was not faster than two bullets at direct contact.

Sherlock had scented his alpha’s presence before Sebastian pulled Sherlock into the room at gunpoint, but the two had not lain eyes on each other since the Library. It had been three weeks. Three long weeks.

He expected his alpha was going to be… _bloody_.

Still… The amount of blood on him... The torn shirt that hung from him, told a much deadlier tale.

Sherlock inwardly gasped as the twins reacted.

_I know my loves, so close! You feel Papa, don’t you?_

John sniffed the air and looked at Sherlock quizzically, his head at a slant.

It was not a pleasant look.

“{Alpha?}”

“{You smell different.}”

“{Different?}”

“{Wrong!}”

John let loose a deep growl in clear threat.

_He’s growling at me!_

Unaware of the internal conversation Moran and Brook looked from John to Sherlock in surprise.

A red laser dot appeared on the alpha’s forehead just as he dropped to all fours, prepared to attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I made enough Jiffy Pop.


	66. Temple of Baal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Sebastian Moran and Richard Brook face off.  
> Guns and Omegas and Alphas and Betas in a tense situation don't mix.

He will never admit it.

_Never._

After all Mycroft Holmes, the minor office holder with the government, loathed legwork.

Oh, but Mycroft Holmes, the Alpha, was having fun.

It has been many years since he let loose as an alpha and used his full capabilities.

The serrated blade was slipped from a mercenary’s own sheath before it was lodged in his own skull with him none the wiser.

The slide to the floor, suit be damned for once, as he ham-stringed someone. 

He had all but forgotten the delicious feel of that sudden… _give…_ when a neck rotated beyond its natural arc.

The _pop_ and _snap_ of bone in his hand.

He sighed annoyed at himself with the perfect bullet hole the appeared between the eyes of another armed combatant, he was aiming a few centimeters higher, for the middle of the forehead.

_Middle age Mycroft. Que sera sera…_

Oh, yeah, the Iceman enjoyed himself – _immensely_.

He had just enough time to react hearing the power-up as the emergency lights engaged. 

It would not be long before full power to the facility was up again, but it no longer mattered. They had their element of surprise it was a full out fight now.  The civilians cowered or scampered away when an alarm was sounded and they were instructed to lock down for something gotten loose.

_Oh, John is free. That cannot be good for whoever is in his way._

It was easy to tell civilians apart from the combatants. 

_Like this fool._

He snapped one arm and then the other of a younger alpha not smart enough to shoot first and dared to charge at him instead.  The added throat punch was simply to hear the sound as the yell of pain became a choked gasp.

He licked the struggling alpha’s Adam’s apple before he dropped to a crouch, grabbed a leg and swung him into a wall as he stood again.

_Only a contortionist body should bend back like such. I don’t think he was one. Shame._

He had shot another combatant by the time the body hit the floor.

Yes, it felt damned good, but he had a more important target to reach.

Mycroft knew he Sir Edwin’s office when he smelled it, the door was open and he would have passed it scenting the man himself was not there when he saw one very familiar object. Practically an extension of himself, Mycroft would recognize it at fifty paces. However, he knew those fifty paces should have been in London. It had no business being on this side of the world.

_He dared to take this from my own office!_

It was cumbersome, foolhardy to take it and later he will berate himself for the ridiculous sentiment he had no time for at the moment, but that was later.

He took it now.

He heard a serious fight engage in his earpiece. Recognized the voices of both combatants.

The alpha knew only one other person who would engage in fisticuffs at a time like this and would only indulge in it to buy time.

When he heard the scream and the car alarm sound in his headpiece he ran.

Mycroft overlaid the blueprint of the facility in his mind, followed scents and found himself in the car park as the facility lights fully came on.

There are very few people who have Mycroft’s true heart.

Everyone knew about Mummy, that was a given. Despite their antagonistic public image, the small few that knew the Iceman well knew of the alpha’s love for his omega baby brother. An even smaller few had begun to glean his love with the detective inspector. However, while certain people understood the importance of one other person in his life, not even that person was sure of the depths of which he would go.

She was about to learn.

Mycroft holstered his gun and twisted the handle of his umbrella that released the stiletto blade tucked within.

_How nice of him bring this to South America so I can use it against him._

“Why hide? You know I can scent you. Both of you.”

A bloody limping Sir Edwin came from behind a large vehicle as he just short of dragged an even bloodier Anthea with him.

The already nil chance of a quick and painless death for Sir Edwin was eradicated at the sight of her.

_Dislocated left shoulder. Broken right ulna. Broken left metatarsal. Fractured ribs. Facial contusions._

Within a second Mycroft knew several things:

  * The agent he personally trained could have taken Sir Edwin down on her own had she wanted.
  * Anthea ensured Mycroft knew she was with him because she knew that Mycroft wanted, he deserved, no that _he needed_ , the honors of delivering what was to come to this man.
  * She had chosen to fight Sir Edwin in hand-to-hand to buy Mycroft time to get to them.
  * Mycroft was aware Sir Edwin knew this of her as well.
  * The man could have simply shot her and ran, but Porlock knew Mycroft was coming.
  * Sir Edwin made Anthea dearly pay the price of her sacrifice for the sake of her boss. Porlock beat the agent nearly to death because he could and she had let him.
  * Above all Mycroft knew Anthea could be missing a limb and would never display a sign of discomfort in front him. That she did not even try to hide her pain contorted face from him view spoke volumes to just how much pain she was in.



_Oh my dear! He will pay._

Sir Edwin held a dual syringe at her neck. Anthea was a beta; the concoction was guaranteed death if injected.

“Just what is she worth to you Holmes? More than you want me de…?”

Anthea met Mycroft’s eyes and winked.

_Thank you my dear._

Sir Edwin automatically raised his arm in deflection of the short rapier headed for him. Too late he realized his mistake. The syringe fell from one hand as Anthea simultaneously dropped to one knee and delivered an elbow to his midsection before she slid to the carpark floor in a scream of hurt.

“You fu—!”

Before Sir Edwin could finish, Mycroft had crossed the space between them.

For nearly thirty years, Sir Patrick Edwin, codenamed Porlock, has been an Ultra agent. For over twenty of those years Antarctica and Porlock, were Ultra agents who worked together and often against each other. A little over fifteen years ago, of the five that held Ultra status, it was understood that while they all yielded similar powers, Mycroft was the de facto head of the unit. Something none but Porlock contested. Thus, started a most deadly game between them with the world as chessboard. A game where town and sundry, cities, countries, politicians, dictators and monarchies were the unknowing players. A game that was never truly personal until Sir Edwin, who was very vocal in his opinion that Ultra be comprised solely of beta members only, made it so.

Porlock yelped at Mycroft’s sudden appearance beside him.

“Oh, did you forget I am Alpha?” Mycroft had grabbed Sir Edwin by the neck. “You know, human enough to be used, but not enough human to lead?”

Mycroft grabbed the man’s right hand and snapped his pinky finger. Mycroft looked at the odd angle from hit hung from Sir Edwin’s hand as the man screamed. He reached into Sir Edwin’s pocket, took the man’s mobile and entered the passcode.

“Oh hush!” The Iceman admonished at the other man's protest. “Be good and I'll leave enough for the coroner to identify. I mean I am going to hurt you before you die regardless. You're simply bargaining for how long I make you suffer. Please. Don't choose now to surprise me and do something smart.”

Mycroft put the mobile on speakerphone, speed dialed a number and placed it in the man’s damaged hand for him to hold just as someone answered.

Sir Edwin winced in pain, but made no other sound as Mycroft slowly slid a hand around his neck.

“Hello Lady Edwin. I do apologize for calling at this late hour.”

“Oh! Lord Holmes! If...if you deign to call personally, the hour is the least of my concerns.” Though Lady Marlene Agnes Edwin née Boatswain, wife of Sir Patrick Edwin, spoke calmly, Mycroft understood she knew. She knew to whom she was married. She knew with whom she spoke. There was only one reason Mycroft Holmes would call her personally. She took a nervous, almost relieved breath before she spoke again. “I presume this is …”

“…About the acquisition queried via the woman with whom you dined on the 15th a couple of months ago. I must inform you she is in my employ hired to be on the lookout for such… acquisition requests. “

Both men heard the sharp intake of Lady Edwin’s panicked breath.

“I know nothing of a request… I…I…”

“…will continue doing so then. I presumed the security deposit was in error and had it refunded accordingly.”

“I… noticed…and had wondered about the strange transaction. Thank you for the courtesy, Lord Holmes.”

“Oh, you are quite welcome, Lady Edwin. It will be my pleasure.”

Sir Edwin made a sharp hiss of pain. Mycroft waggled his finger in the man’s face and made a near silent shushing sound in warning.

“Speakerphone…? Oh!” Lady Edwin’s voice sounded thoughtful, then turned sharp with comprehension, “I understand Lady Aaron had come to be desirous of a relinquishment which would have granted her sole access to the acquisition. Her loss of the acquisition will be far greater than my own, I fear. Thank you for the courtesy call. I understand your personal help has naught to do with the cause of my transaction error, but the assistance is appreciated nonetheless. Know if asked, favor will be readily granted. I have no idea what was done to incur the debt now owed, Patrick, but by God I do hope the payment is excruciating, you son of a bitch!”

Lady Edwin’s vengeful laughter was heard as she rang out.  Mycroft took the mobile from Sir Edwin’s hand and tossed it to Anthea who immediately secured it.

Mycroft’s smile to Sir Edwin was all manner of toothy evil as he watched comprehension dawn on the doomed man’s face.

“Oh _, that’s right_ , you did not know your own beloved spouse tried to take a hit out on you. Well, the lady did hope it was excruciating. It is now behooved upon me to carry out your lady’s request.”

Sir Edwin screamed as he unthinkingly used the damaged hand to ineffectually grasp at Mycroft’s hand, which slowly lifted him from the carpark floor.

Movement in his peripheral vision made him look down at his PA as she painfully scrambled back on the floor away from him.

Mycroft already knew he had begun to drop as he felt his claws unsheathed.

_Sorry, my dear. This cannot be helped, nor will it be stopped._

He turned his completely black filled eye sockets upon Porlock with barely controlled alpha rage as some of his own monster slipped out.

“You allowed Moriarty to continue his experiments unchecked, killing innocent male omegas.”

The first thick dark claw oh so slowly unsheathed into Sir Edwin’s neck at the trapezius. Sir Edwin’s scream became higher pitched.

“Knowing exactly who he was, you took Victor Trevor and turned him into a heartless killing machine.”

Another dark claw slowly entered the scapulae.

“You allowed the taking of Captain Watson.”

Mycroft shifted his fingers and pierced the man’s larynx.

“You hurt Anthea.”

Some part of him acknowledged Anthea as she pulled herself from the floor and leaned against the SUV. Her face was placid, but Mycroft saw the vengeful smile in her eyes as Sir Edwin’s screams became a choked gurgled sound as the alpha squeezed tighter.

“ _You took my brother._ ”

Mycroft’s full black feral eyes glittered as they stared into Sir Edwin’s. Mycroft took four clawed fingers of his other hand and scratched across Sir Edwin's face.

One for his brother. One for his niece for Mycroft was confident Porlock helped with Mary's escape somehow and two for the twins and their suffering of the past three weeks.

“You tried to crush my heart metaphorically.”

Mycroft felt the man’s fear rise as he placed his other hand on the betrayer’s chest.

 _“Allow me to be literal_.”

The scent of loosened bowels permeated the air and Mycroft’s dark laughter echoed.

Mycroft pulled back and then slammed his unsheathed claws fully into Sir Edwin's chest.

The sound and feel of cracked of bones under his hand as Mycroft crushed Sir Edwin’s sternum was lovely.

Yet not as lovely as the wet sound when he pulled away and Sir Edwin’s body fell away to the floor sans one heart that remained in Mycroft’s bloody grip.

He looked at the heart but for a moment. A clawed finger in each of the chambers pulled it apart before he squeezed his fist tight and it squished through his finger into something near unrecognizable.

_Yesssss._

It had been a long while since he had given in to the near erotic pleasure of an alpha kill.

It felt _good_.

A sound caught his attention.

He slowly turned to his PA and the incredulous noise she emitted.

_Is she…giggling?_

Anthea saw his concerned face and nearly doubled over. A moan suppressed what he knew to be increased mirth mixed with pain.

“Anna Jayne…?”

Her head popped up in surprise, it has been many, many years since he had addressed her by the name her mother gave her.

“Sorry… You… You brought an umbrella to a gun fight, s-sir.” She reached down and picked up the blade to his umbrella.

“Oh, how hysterical.”  He rolled his eyes drolly as he flicked the detritus in his hand to the floor.

_Gallows humor. She is fine. Or rather she will be._

Mycroft opened the door to the vehicle, looked in and nodded.

“Come now.” He lifted Anthea as gently as he could onto the front seat. Her barely suppressed whimper when he grasped her waist, and that she did not protest the gentle treatment, told him just how hurt she was.

_Oh, my dear, you are so brave._

“Stay here. That is an order. I’ll check that each of these vehicles have keys and are ready for use. Direct everyone to this location. Try to keep at least this vehicle for us.” He reached around her and pulled out the automatic he had spied between the seats and gave it to her as she carefully slid over to the driver side.

“I have them both!”  McParland’s voice came over their communication link with a location. “But we have a situation…”

Mycroft barely heard Anthea’s yell of “Go!” as he took off.

* * *

 

“No!” Sherlock yelled at Lauren. “Something about me has changed. I need to figure out what it is. Do _not_ shoot him. If you do and I live, I promise you – you will not!”

Simultaneously, Moriarty shoved the barrel of his gun to John’s head “Don’t move!”

His alpha stilled, but the full black eyes stared hard at Sherlock as John continued to growl menacingly.

Sherlock felt as the alpha dropped further and the monster returned with that odd sense of primal wordless emotions that the omega had felt before.

This was the pure monster that was beyond what the man can save.

_He doesn’t know me? How am I scenting wrong?_

“What have you done to him?” Sherlock looked to Richard Brook panicked.

“Oh? Does he not know you?” Richard laughed. “For a brilliant man, you are one stupid omega. Look at how you got Moran’s alpha scent all over you.”

Sherlock closed his eyes in painful understanding as he remembered John’s words before the lights started going out.

[“{Omega?}” John’s voice reached Sherlock in his mind.]

[“{Yes, Alpha?}”]

[“{I feel something different are you…?}”]

_No. Not all over me. Within me._

_Victor._

_When I bit him, I must have taken or reawakened some of his blood in mine. My scent must have changed._

How to explain what happened when Sherlock was not 100% sure himself.

_I cannot. Not while John is so deep in his monster he was beyond my words._

Instinct alone made the omega slowly kneel.

[“I don’t trust the monster, but I trust the man. I trust you, John”]

“What are you doing?” Brook hissed.

“{Trust me.}” He said the words aloud, bust mostly to John.

Sherlock knew Sebastian kept his gun trained on him, even as the former colonel backed away in understanding of what Sherlock was doing.

_To give him time to shoot. In case I am…wrong._

“Boss? I told you what they did to us in the program. Sometimes one would go in deep like that…and don’t always come out. I’ve had to hunt and put some down. That something in him recognizes the threat of your shooting him is good, there’s a chance the omega can pull him out.”

Sherlock spreads his knees to better show his gravidity as a hand went to his abdomen where the twins have not stopped moving in demand of their alpha’s touch since Sherlock entered the room. All the while he repeated one word in their minds.

“{…YOURS…YOURS…YOURS…YOURS…}”

There was a change in pitch of his alpha’s growl, something felt...less threatening.

_Yet not safe enough for he still growls at me._

“{…YOURS…YOURS…YOURS…YOURS…}”

The omega sent calm and trust. Sent love. He opened his collar more and bared his neck. As his hand travelled down his shirt he realized it was a little sticky. He felt along the slight swell of his chest.

It was not much, but yes, it was there.  

The monster whined as he scented it as well. Sherlock stared down in delighted wonder.

_I am beginning to lactate!_

“I’m giving him my shirt. Let him smell it.” Sherlock said to Brook as he unbuttoned his cuffs.

“And if you’re wrong?” Like Moran, Brook had also backed away while he kept his gun aimed at John.

“If he attacks me you know all of us in here are going to die in the cross fire. I’m trying to save of all our lives.”

Brook nodded knowing Sherlock was right.

Sherlock knew they expected him to toss the shirt, but he knew the alpha sensed his intent and waited for it.

[“I am not afraid of you, my alpha.”]

The omega stood and shot across the space at his faster speed.

Seeing the fast-moving omega, Brook’s guard _reacted,_ his gun swung in John’s direction.

Bad move.

 _Very_ bad move.

Whereas for most alphas it is the last thing done. It is more of desecration, an adding of insult to the injury of a fallen –usually dead- opponent. It is the opposite for most omegas. As the physically weakest of the genders, when omegas fight they instinctively eviscerate, going for the soft tissue of their opponents. There the feral omega can incapacitate a person and bring them down long enough for their alpha to take over. And if in the protection of their pack or their downed alpha – as many have learned – sometimes permanently.

But this was not your average omega.

This was not your average pregnant omega.

This pregnant omega was Sherlock Holmes.

And a suddenly feral Sherlock Holmes pivoted mid run and _pounced._

By the time Sebastian thought to yell “No!” to the guard, the thumb of unsheathed omega claws of one hand had sunk deep into an eye socket while the unsheathed omega claws of other hand were already deep in soft flesh even as Sherlock turned to his oncoming alpha. Before the guard could fall from the omega’s fingers in offering the monster was there.

The offering was not the omega asking for the monster’s mercy.

All heard the sickening sounds as the skull was crushed under the monster's blow. He pulled his fist back and _smiled_ as he lifted the body from the floor.

The offering was for the monster’s _pleasure_.

“If one drop of his blood has ruined my Westwood I will skinnnnn you!” Brook snarled as the monster tossed the dead man at his feet.

Richard’s focus was still on John as Sebastian’s had remained on Sherlock.

Neither omega nor alpha noticed as they stepped to each other.

“{Alpha.}” Sherlock held out his milk scented shirt with one hand and bared the wrist of the other hand as he bowed his head.

The full on obsidian of the monster possessed alpha’s eyes stayed on the omega’s as he ignored the shirt and took the offered wrist into his grasp instead and gave it a questioning sniff and lick. Monster or not, it is his alpha and the omega sighed in the pleasure of the touch.

Sherlock didn’t think, just stepped into the alpha’s arms as if he belonged there, because he did and ripped the tattered shirt from his alpha in need of as much direct contact as possible as the monster sniffed his bond bite.

The twins immediately calmed.

A sniff and teasing lick was all that was needed as the monster then buried his teeth in the omega’s bond bite in claim.

_“{MINE!}”_

It did not burn this time because there was nothing to reject. The omega repeated the only thing that mattered.

“{YOURS!}”

When his alpha pulled away at last it was with black eyes that segued into familiar deep blues that stared back into his. The discorded emotions became focused thought and he was back, but there was still a frown.

“What did you do?” John searched Sherlock’s face. “Something is… different.”

“I am not sure, Alpha. I’ve been a little busy, lately. I haven’t had time to process it all.” Sherlock placed his own hand over John’s that rested gently on his abdomen.

“{Tell it to my face, Alpha…}” Sherlock reminded him in mind speak as he caressed John’s beard.

“{I love you.}” John whispered aloud and in mindspeak.

“Welcome back, dog.” Sebastian’s voice brought them back to reality.

“So, if you’re _quite_ done…” Brook said simultaneously.

Both Alpha and Omega snarled at the men.

Sherlock idly noted his brother had entered the room gun drawn. Arms still around his alpha, he and his brother quickly deduced each other.

Sherlock noted his brother’s satisfaction, under his worry.

“So, Sir Edwin is dead.”  Brook had noticed it as well. “Just as well, he was getting tiresome.”

Mycroft and Brook began a verbal posturing of who was smarter, what Sherlock knew would be the usual threats and power plays Sherlock tuned out as John held him.

“Omegas are not weaker, except perhaps physically…” Mycroft’s voice had drifted in and out Sherlock’s thoughts, but it was Brook that fully brought him out.

“And fix it physically is what I am trying to _DO_!!” He screamed the last word in a fit of rage.

“This quest of yours to give omegas more physical strength will not work. Just as Sir Edwin’s endeavor to control and use Alpha Rage as a tool was destined to fail. You can cannot go against nature. The omega’s presumed weakness…”

“If an omega is weak it is more because they have been subliminally or overtly raised to be so. It is the reverse of how alphas are raised. Sir Edwin wanted an army of alphas to be even more superior than they already were as tools for fighting, but he understood how unstable it made them. He liked having them put down when they finally lost it.

"I wanted to level the playing field twixt alpha and omega. I spent over a decade in the pursuit of such; in the creation of such. I’m there at the precipice of everything!” Brook whose attention never really left, refocused more on John.

“Your blood works! And only your living blood. Your omega is proof of it. I don’t know why and frankly I do not care. As close as I am to having everything, I would rather kill you knowing I will be killed immediately after than let you go.” Brook said in calm menace.

Relayed with far too much calm, no one doubted Brook’s words.

John gently, but urgently pushed Sherlock to a squat before him. Their intertwined fingers rested on Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Alpha please!” Sherlock winced as he tried to resist the compel that that bound him to live, even if John did not.

John and Sherlock were physically closer to the door, but Sherlock knew if either he or John moved towards it, Brook and Moran would shoot. Brook was correct. He and Moran would be dead immediately after.

_John or I may not survive this, but those two certainly will not._

“Yet you cannot keep us.” John said quietly “That which makes us what we are, the nature to which we’re evolved from, cannot be restrained nor contained. Doing so kills us slowly, that is not how we will live…”

Sherlock stopped listening as Juan’s words came back to him.

| “…The thing is the man thinks about it, the _canid lycaon_ we’re said to evolve from do not.” |

_Think like an omega. Go with your instincts. Instinct._

Cahriah’s kiss.

_Lycaon do not kiss, not as man does. They lick, they bite._

_They bite!_

  _Therefore…_

* * *

 

“{Omega?}”  John sensed the omega’s sudden excitement and knew an important deduction fell into place.

“{Cahriah’s Kiss means to bite. I think you can compel anyone who has had your blood if you did not sever the connection yourself.}”

John frowned as Sherlock sent it to him instinctively. It was somehow easier to understand that way.

“Anyone?” John asked.

“Anyone.” Sherlock confirmed, then arched a brow as John’s face became predatory as the something he had noticed days ago in the lab came to him. He pulled Sherlock to standing. 

“{He’s mine.}”

“{Oh, this will be good.}”

_Like you have no idea yet, my omega._

“{Yes, it will.}” John’s face went serene, “{Signal your brother not to shoot. Let me know when he understands.}”

“What are you two doing? You… you mindspeak!” Brook glared at the two of them.

Sherlock ignored Brook and turned to the Iceman. The odd nonverbal communication between the brothers as a rapid series of head tilts, half frowns, squinting and raised eyebrows commenced before Sherlock turned back to John and nodded readiness.

“You are _mine_.” John turned to Brook.

_“{You will not kill us. Show Moran your right arm.}”_

John knew Sherlock heard the compel, but it was not directed at him so he did not react, but watched amazed as Richard Brook flinched in confusion.

_I can hold multiple compels. Interesting..._

“Boss?” Moran looked to his boss as Brook inexplicably holstered his gun and took off his jacket. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t KNOW!” Jim’s face was etched with pain and panic as he tried not to roll up his sleeve.

_“{Do it, now!}”_

With a grunt of frustration, Brook tore at his right shirt sleeve and showed Moran his arm, the pain in his face eased as he complied.

Moran saw the twin puncture marks in the crook of the man’s arm. 

“My God, you took the serum! Are you insane? I thought you said it only works on… Jesus Christ!” Moran gasped as he grabbed Brook’s wrist in shock as it came to him. “All this time… You... You’re an _omega_ …!”

“Well don’t say it like it’s an insult!” Sherlock intoned.

“Timing, Sherlock.” John admonished quietly.

Mycroft’s laser still pinpointed to Brook’s forehead, but John knew the only thing that kept the snarling man from attacking them was his compel.

He knew he was fast enough to take Brook, but Sebastian still had his gun trained on Sherlock. John could see that neither Mycroft nor his agents had a good enough shot. Like him, they would not risk his omega.

“Moran, let go of me! Now!”

Sebastian let go and Brook let loose a scream as his hand lifted his gun.

 _“{Noooo.}”_ John shook his head in calm reminder.

“Jim? What the fuck?” Sebastian watched as the omega screamed in pain and frustration as he desperately tried to raise the gun, tried to put his finger on the trigger. Sweat dripped and his became breath erratic as he slowly lowered the gun in realization.

“Your blood?”

“Yes. You wanted my blood? You got it..” John purposely looked from Brook to Moran and back. “And everything that comes with it.”

“No…”

_“{Silence. Stayyyyyy.}”_

John knew Brook understood as the outed omega looked to Sebastian helplessly.

Moran looked to Brook's sudden stillness and quiet panic. “Boss?”

John looked to Moran.

| “Never could seem to get you out of my system.” |

_I think I know why..._

_“{Kill him, Moran!}”_

At alpha speed Moran had swung his gun from Sherlock, shot Richard Brook in the head at point blank range and holstered it before Jim’s body had fallen to the floor.

“{I bit him decades ago in a fight. For reasons...it never severed.}” John silently explained to a surprised Sherlock.

“What did you just make me DO?” Moran roared as he pulled out the gun again and looked at it completely stunned and confused as to what just happened, oblivious to the red dots as Mycroft, Lauren and the beta agent put their sights on him.

“What the bloody hell?” Lauren exclaimed simultaneously.

_You and I have a score to settle, you bastard._

 “You’re _mine_.” John laughed darkly. “ _You were never_ worthying _{Fight me.}_ ”

John had said the words aloud, but he knew Sherlock understood that he had compelled Moran when they saw the alpha flinch.

John turned to Sherlock.

_“{Do not interfere.}”_

“John, no!”

_“{Move!]”_

He knew Sherlock felt the rage of his oncoming monster as John purposely dropped.

* * *

 

Sherlock moved away quickly as he felt the shift in John.

He was barely out of the way when Sebastian, dropped to his own monster. Teeth clenched, his face twisted in rage, he hurled himself at John.

“Alfred. Guns down!” Mycroft ordered as McParland, who as an omega understood what was happening, had already lowered hers.

Sebastian attacked John at a speed like nothing Sherlock nor Mycroft had ever seen except with John.

The two were a blur of motion.

He felt a hand on his shoulder that pulled him further out of harm’s way, even as he kept his sight of the larger alpha.

_Mycroft._

Sherlock knew he could not break John’s compelling, so he allowed Mycroft to pull him away, yet he could not take his eyes from the two combatants.

It looked like Sebastian’s feet and fists were everywhere as he took John apart. For every blow John made, it seemed Sebastian made five. He attacked, fists flew at furious speed with blows and counterblows until…

John fell…

Sebastian grabbed hold of John…

_No._

…lifted him into the air…

_No!_

…and hurled him against a wall.

Sherlock and John yelled in pain.

_“NO!”_

Sherlock gritted his teeth, the compelling continued to block him from interfering. He turned to his Alpha Proxy – Alpha Familiar - his brother. Sherlock knew the rules. He knew what the response would be, still he pleaded.

“Mycroft, he has been alphastrained for three weeks! He is up against an alpha larger than Dennison, and John is not one hundred percent. Do something!”

“I promise you, if it comes to that moment, I will kill Moran before there is… damage. Either your alpha is worthying...or he is dead.” His older brother looked to him stone faced as he raised his gun to the combatants should the need to keep his promise present itself.

Sherlock fairly vibrated with barely controlled rage as he had no choice but to accept his brother’s offer. It was as expected. It was an edict as old as the ancient forms themselves, you do not interfere.

When two alphas fight it does not end until one yields, is unconscious, or is dead.

This battle between Colonel Sebastian Moran and Captain John Watson was one that began nearly a score ago when they both played by Army rules.

They were no longer in the army; those rules did not apply.

Yielding or unconsciousness will not be acceptable here.

There was only one way this fight would end.

Sebastian may have been delivered more strikes, but the larger alpha was far from unscathed. Contusions, scratches and gouges from John marked Moran’s body. Moran had fallen to his knees when he threw John and now panted heavily as he turned to look at Sherlock.

Sebastian’s eyes were full alpha black as he smiled – the threat clear that when he was finished with John he was coming after the omega next.

Mycroft pulled a second gun and sighted Sebastian in clear promise of the alpha’s death if he tried. Moran will not have Sherlock.

John moaned as he pulled himself up, his right arm hung at an odd angle.

_Dislocation?_

Sherlock watched as the veins bulged on the alpha’s forehead. The doctor moved his arm out to his side and reached behind his own head. Sherlock knew it should have been slow and careful movements, but as Sebastian also slowly rose there was no time. John gritted through the pain as the shoulder popped back into place. The bulged vein eased, but he was still in pain.

Sherlock immediately sent calm, sent healing.

Sebastian approached the downed alpha a victorious expression on his face as his hand touched John’s head.

_He’s going to kill, Alpha. I can send everything else, why not that?_

“Sherlock?” Mycroft looked to his brother sensing the shift as Sherlock dropped.

John maniacally laughed.

Sherlock grinned.

_Yessssssssss._

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” Lauren gasped stunned as John _moved_.

One moment Sebastian had his arm set to go around John’s neck in a fatal choke hold, the next he screamed.

No one saw John move.

Technically, Sherlock, Mycroft, Lauren and Agent Alfred each saw as John moved, yet none of them could tell you exactly how he moved.

It was a flurry of movement, a cacophony of grunts, the thud of skin on skin contact, the snap and crunch of things broken.

And then…

Nothing.

The sudden silence and lack of movement from either alpha was terrifying.

Sherlock moaned as the compelling broke.

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock knew Mycroft had tried to grab for him, but stopped in realization of John’s painfilled moan.

_He’s alive!_

It was not the bloody mess of Dennison.

There was no one with tranquilizers to stop the monster this time, as if anyone would.

It was worse.

A monster’s rage, with a doctor’s knowledge and a soldier’s steadfastness.

Every major bone in Sebastian Moran’s body, though still mostly inside his body, appeared broken.

And somethings things that should have been inside Sebastian Moran’s body – no longer were.

The smaller alpha’s head snapped around and snarled in warning as the omega approached.

His hands and mouth mired in blood.

_He is still in his monster. I have to bring him out again._

“Stop!” Sherlock yelled as Mycroft’s red dot appeared on John’s forehead.

He stood in front of John to block.

Mycroft, of course, had anticipated Sherlock’s block and moved accordingly his dot remained on the monster. Mycroft said some numbers and letters that Sherlock realized had to be the recall code for the monster.

The monster slowly looked up at the remaining alpha and his snarl became a full-on growl.

_It’s not going to work. John’s beyond listening to you, Brother Mine._

The alpha turned towards Mycroft.

_John’s going to attack. They will kill him._

“{ALPHA!}” Sherlock mindspoke to get his attention.

The monster eyed him warily a low constant rumble emitted.

“Sherlock, for God’s sake! Move!”

Sherlock growled at his older brother in warning and had the satisfaction of seeing agents McParland and Alfred go pale.

Mycroft stuttered, but kept his aim steady.

Sherlock knew neither of the three had tranquilizers aimed. If John so much as flinched in alpha speed they would take him down.

He turned back to the beast before him. “{Alpha, please! Scent _me_. Know _me_.}”

“John, they will kill you!” he pleaded.

“No, they will not.” A familiar voice rolled across the room just as he scented her.

Sherlock knew exactly who she was.

The old woman from the airport.

_Víspera, she’s here!_


	67. Everything Has Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha John Watson and Omega Sherlock Holmes never played by the traditional alpha/omega rules to begin with. Finally together in the immediate aftermath of their rescue Alpha Mycroft Holmes watches as the two change the rules even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized a couple of mornings ago that one year ago give or take THIS happened:  
> 
> 
> You can all congratulate or condemn nat_oliver for this. Just remember Nat has endured the suffering and enjoyed the satisfaction of this along with you.

Mycroft looked to the bloodied alpha before him and truly understood.

_A63-710908. This is Porlock’s monster._

Mycroft remembered the report by Lt. Aaron Gerstone and his own words at the debriefing before he left London.

_And my baby brother is within striking distance of Mr. Hyde._

“John, they will kill you!” Sherlock pleaded.

“No, they will not.” A familiar voice rolled across the room just as Mycroft scented her.

The old woman from the airport.

_How is she here? Why is she here?_

“Your brother understands. His alpha is all instinct now. All core now. The result when beta men interfere with a force of nature they cannot begin to understand. He is beyond your recall, Alpha Familiar. Only his omega can bring him out now.” Víspera laid a gentle hand on Mycroft’s arm.

“And if he cannot?” Mycroft asked coldly, his gun hand was lowered, but his finger remained near the trigger.

“You believe in no deity, Unkind, but I will ask you to have faith in your brother.” was her response.

Mycroft holstered his gun and watched Sherlock as he lowered himself to the floor and knelt in the blood. He had unsheathed his claws as he mirrored the monster’s stance.

The monster bared his teeth as Sherlock growled and something in his brother _shifted_.

Mycroft was aware Sherlock knew how to be menacing when needed. It was something the omega used often to fool people into thinking he was a beta or an alpha. Even pregnant his brother exuded an alarming level of threat.

This was… _different_. 

Mycroft had never seen his brother look so… _primal_.

Sherlock went into a low harmonic that captured the monster’s attention as he slowly stripped off his undershirt, then removed his trousers and pants. If one did not know the omega’s normal frame the clothing had camouflaged some of his pregnancy. In the nude the swell of his abdomen was unmistakable as was the beginning swell of his chest. Sherlock flung his clothes aside as he moved into a stance that mirrored the monster.

_My god! His back!_

Mycroft felt the squeeze on his wrist. He knew it was in approval as he had flexed, but then choked down the Alpha Familiar instinct that wanted to run help and protect to his brother at the sight. He has protected his little brother from all manners of ill since the day Sherlock was born. Never had Mycroft felt as helpless as he had seeing Sherlock’s abused back. Bandages had covered the more serious damage, but smaller red welts that stood out on the pale back told the tale of the others.

“My god! Who would dare?” Lauren’s appalment was as palpable as Mycroft’s barely restrained rage. 

“The ones most responsible are now all dead. Two are dead before us…” she spoke lowly. There was an edge to her voice as she looked to Mycroft and sniffed. “…and one by your own hand.”

_She means Sir Edwin._

Mycroft watched as Sherlock continued the harmonic as he beckoned to the monster with an out stretched right hand while he touched his abdomen with his left.

The monster snatched at the offered hand in alpha speed that made the omega yelp in surprise, but not run as he stared down the monster and renewed his harmonics.

Mycroft felt old woman’s grip tighten on his wrist when he flexed at the sound of his brother’s yelp. He saw as Lauren had also flexed, prepared to shoot, but took her cues from him.

The monster let go of the omega’s hand and circled him. One hand touched the floor, palm to claws and then the other as he slowly moved.

_The way he moves. It’s hypnotic, almost serpentine. Sensuous._

Mycroft found himself entranced by the sinuous way the monster moved around his brother.

The monster was bloody, beaten, covered in contusions and the detritus of his vengeance. He was not whole. In fact, he limped a little as he circled the still form that was his brother. Both heedless of the blood and guts and brain matter of the dead they kneeled and moved in.

_Did John just bow his head to Sherlock?_

It was the monster who roared as the omega moved fast and bit down onto the monster’s shoulder at the neck.

The monster’s head was thrown back, his face contorted, his mouth fell open.

_But is it in agony or ecstasy?_

Mycroft simply stared in shock.

_He’s… he is bonding! He is bonding his alpha! An omega who can bond‽_

Again, something shifted between and within the pair.

Something significant.

The omega slowly pulled back and a sound not quite a bark, not quite a roar came from him as he slowly bared his neck to his alpha in reciprocation.

“Jesus!”  Alfred’s voice was low, shaken as he watched. “I…I didn’t know an omega can do that.”

“And you still _do not_.” Mycroft said quickly and icily.

“Yes sir!” Alfred and McParland responded simultaneously.

The monster pushed the omega flat on his back one hand at the omega’s throat, his canines already in the omega’s bond bite.

Mycroft did not have to question agony or ecstasy as _Alpha Rut_ and the slick of _Omega Heat_ scented the air.

The omega sat up as his alpha released his neck.

“Oh. My. God. HOW?” McParland’s vocalized Mycroft’s astonishment aloud when Sherlock opened his eyes.

Eyes that matched the full-on obsidian of his alpha.

_Oh god, are they both monsters?_

Sherlock took the monster’s hand from his throat and slid it to his abdomen.

Something known only to the two of them silently passed.

“What has he done to my brother, Víspera?” Mycroft turned to her stunned.

_I know she has never introduced herself. How do I know her name?_

“It’s more like what has your brother done to him?” a beatific smile graced Víspera’s features as she released Mycroft’s wrist at last.

Mycroft saw as the monster’s arms went around the omega and touched his abdomen.

It was like the very first John felt his pups.

Mycroft could see the change as the monster dropped and the alpha returned.

“{Welcome back, Alpha.}”

Mycroft knew the spoken words were not needed twixt alpha and omega that Sherlock said the words aloud so everyone else would know it was safe. Still, Mycroft felt Víspera eyes focused on him as he observed the alpha and his brother.

Mycroft sniffed and looked to the woman beside him.

_Their scents! Their scents have changed. They smell like…her!_

A silent conversation happened between the two. One where the alpha reluctantly nodded, pulled away, then waited.

_He looks…contrite, penitent._

Whatever Sherlock said to John then in mindspeak was enough.

“What did the alpha do that he wanted forgiveness from his omega?”

It was a rhetorical question. Mycroft had not expected an answer. He had deduced it upon sight of the alpha when he arrived at the standoff – though he did not want to acknowledge it at the time. In all honesty, he did not want to acknowledge the answer now.

Víspera gave him one anyway.

“It rarely happens in this modern world, but it is the fastest way for us to heal. Sometimes the only way. As damaged as he is, it is the only way he could be as well as he is. An alpha will do what an alpha must. Anything to protect a pack, anything to live. Especially an alpha of his kind. Say the word Unkind. Say it and know it for the truth and accept it.”

The elder Holmes brother had spent all but the first seven years of his life keeping the younger Holmes brother safe and alive at all costs. It was a selfish endeavor because he could not imagine his world without his brother in it. Short of taking his own life he did everything in his power to not ever have to find out.

_What would I not do for my brother? What would I not do for Gregory?_

_All John has done and much more if necessary. I will not be a hypocrite now._

“Cannibalism. He is alpha. He did what he had to. I accept them. I accept him.”

Mycroft knew from the reports that John Watson was aware of his monster. More important, Mycroft understood that Sherlock was also aware of it and was not afraid of John’s monster. With a shock he realized why.

_Sherlock belongs to John. He trusts John. And John trusts him._

Mycroft saw as John shuddered in Sherlock's grasp. The relief of his omega’s acceptance slackened the tension held in his body as the omega brought his lips to the alpha. Mycroft understood the act of giving understanding, of giving absolution to the only person from whom it mattered to the alpha. And the alpha, in desperation of his omega's acceptance of the near unspeakable received that understanding, that absolution.

The kiss became something more.

Much more. The two freely gave and took what they needed from each other.

 _Was that_ Song _?_

Mycroft had read of the phenomenon and seen one or two videos, but that was all. ‘Song’ was a type of harmonics that only bonded Alpha/Omega couples can do. Akin to a mating call, it was more a mating of the hearts than the bodies.  It can only happen when both are at their deepest core together and each is unique to the couple as the levels of trust needed to be that free and venerable in front of someone generally only occurred in the most private of moments between a couple, it was thing that is rarely heard live by others.

Having never bonded anyone or been so near a couple thus engaged Mycroft had not heard it like this. The videos give melodic sound, but nothing could capture the totality of it.

The monster leaned forward and sniffed Sherlock’s wrist as he emitted a low rumble in counterpoint to the omega’s harmonics. Where Sherlock’s clothing removal was intentional, the rip and tearing of the monster’s clothing as whatever his clawed hands grasped was shredded in the process and discarded was anything but. They held each other in a tight embrace, yet it was not about sex, it was for full body contact. To get as much of each other as close to each as possible.

They needed each other’s love and they gave each other love.

Mycroft _felt_ it. He felt his brother’s call to his alpha and the reciprocation of it.

For the briefest moment Mycroft held envy. Song like that was something he would not be able to share with his beta lover. Still, Greg’s love, hell anyone’s love, was a gift the Alpha Familiar once thought never to receive and he would trade no amount of instinct for it.

He felt almost felt guilty, ashamed to bear witness to such as on a pure instinct level he understood just how much alpha and omega loved each other. 

_Oh God…_

“Exactly, Unkind. And what you feel is a mere token of what they are feeling of each other, for each other right now.” Víspera’s grip lessened on his, but did not release as she reached out to Lauren and held the omega by the wrist as well.

Mycroft also felt when the mood  _shifted_ .

His brother raised a clawed hand into the alpha’s hair and held his head to the bite. The swell of his pregnancy more pronounced and his erection evident when Sherlock’s back arched as he moaned in the pleasure of it.

_Oh, I could have gone the rest of my life without ever having seen that._

Mycroft realized then the omega female had felt it as deeply as he as she glanced to him. She would soon be in need of a suppressant, but he knows she will not leave his side.

“Alfred, McParland go find Anthea in the carpark. There is nothing left for us here. You know what to do. I am right behind you.” 

The two gave curt nods and left.

By silent agreement Mycroft and Víspera also left the two alone in the room.

He smiled as Agent Alfred’s beta scent faded, but McParland’s scent lingered. Being out of the room away from the song released them from the alpha/omega song affect. Lauren knew he and Víspera were aware that she stayed close if not direct sight of him. All accepted it.

"You do not approve. That they mate in blood." The old woman smiled in the omega agent’s direction as spoke softly beside him.

She watched as Mycroft examined his still bloody hands and clothes. He felt the twinges and aches of his actions, he would be sore for a couple of days from it, still a small smile of satisfaction played along his lips.

_I imagine it will be a long time before I get to do this again, if ever again. It was done well._

"I have read texts where that happened in older times. I imagine it happens less now as we are generally surrounded by beta who would never understand that instinct. I neither approve, nor disapprove. Yes, he is my brother, he is with John. They are Alpha and Omega. We do what we are naturally wont to do when we can." Mycroft answered honestly, after a moment. "I fault not the man anything he does to get to his omega, anything he does to protect his omega nor anything he does in the love of his omega. I do know being who they are normally, neither would care about an audience right now, but given the circumstances even they would prefer privacy at this moment."

“Then come, Unkind.”

Mycroft looked to the door behind him as his brother and his alpha reunited.

“Your brother is in the finest hands other than yours. You will always have a fear for one and a fear of the other, yes, but you will also trust both.”

Mycroft accepted that truth.

“Unkind. I have a gift for you.” her face gave nothing as she walked away.

“Why do you call me that? Unkind? I know you know my name as I know yours.”

“Why? Because it annoys you, Mycroft. I do allow myself some trite pettiness as amusements.” Víspera looked to him very much amused, “I am human after all, Frosty the Spookman.”

Mycroft did not try to control his sour lemon expression as he looked at the woman.

“What _don’t_ you know?”

“Oh, so much more than even you will ever learn, Unkind, yet far less than I can ever know. Do what you must here and then come home. Your brother and his alpha will know where.”

* * *

 

_-what-what-what-what-_

The omega slowly stripped and displayed his gravidity. The monster admired the unmistakable swell of his omega’s nude abdomen as well as the slight swell of his chest and scented the milk there.

_-pups-love-mine-love-pups-_

_-mine- omega-pups-love-omega-love-pups-mine-_

Clothes flung aside as the omega dropped back into his stance that mirrored the monster’s and growled at him in challenge as he offered his wrist for scenting. The monster snatched the offered hand and froze when the omega yelped in surprise. That should not have happened. His omega should not fear him.

_-wrong-bad-omega-bad-wrong-_

He was satisfied when the omega had not run, but instead stared him down and returned to harmonics. It was a different sound now. One borne of instinct alone. An omega’s instinctual song of calling. Song of love.

_-love-omega-want-alpha-song-alpha-want-omega-love-_

The monster leaned forward and sniffed his omegas wrist as he emitted his own low rumble in counterpoint to the omega’s harmonics. It was an Alpha’s demand - an instinctual response to his omega’s song and he stripped himself that which restricted his complete access to the omega.

_-love-alpha-want-omega-song-omega-want-alpha-love-_

Older than Ancient Forms the song had its own ritual. The monster let go of the omega’s hand. One hand touched the floor, palm to clawed fingertips, and then the other as he slowly moved and circled the omega.

The monster hurt, but he willed himself to move as their song dictated. He rolled back and arms muscles as he moved in a swaying pattern.  The monster was bloody, beaten, covered in contusions and the detritus of his vengeance. He was not whole. In fact, he limped a little as he circled the still form that was his omega. Both heedless of the blood and guts and brain matter of the three dead men they kneeled and moved in.

The omega sent words in his mind, but all the monster sensed, all he knew, all he felt was raw emotion.

_-trust-what-trust-omega-trust-what-trust-_

While faith is blind instinct. Trust is not.

Though many use the words interchangeably at times, they are not the same. All faith involves trust, but it is not reciprocal. Trust is faith that has been proven which involves cognitive thought.

Thought. _Thought._

“{Do you trust me, Alpha?}” His omega had asked.

_Trust your omega?_

“{Do you trust me, Alpha?}” His omega repeated.

“{Yes.}” He answered honestly.

“{Then bare unto to me.}”

_Trust my omega._

The alpha bowed his head and then slowly tilted it and bared his neck to his omega.

He did not have time to think about it as his omega moved fast and bit down onto the alpha’s shoulder at the neck.

All alphas know they have a scent gland just like an omega. Omegas have pressed their noses and run their tongues along their alpha’s gland since they have existed. Though many have bit their alphas in the spot, leaving their own form of love bites as marques, it was always on the surface they cannot truly _bite_.

The alpha’s head was thrown back, his face contorted, his mouth opened in a silent surprised gasp as he felt it as his omega’s canines extended broke the surface of his skin and sank into the gland. He moaned silently as the omega’s enzymes entered his blood stream and something _shifted_.

It was then he understood.

It was woven into a folklore as a warning to alphas not to let their omegas bite.

Because some omegas may be able to bite back.

He the alpha, was being bonded by the omega.

It was not the painful, hostile takeover as when John first bonded Sherlock. The omega already had John’s enzymes within his blood. He in turn had some of Sherlock’s and neither were rejecting, the balancing was easy in comparison.

Alpha and Omega felt it as something shifted between and within the pair.

Something significant.

 _-Bonded alpha! To join or be joined securely by love. Love John. Pups. Children. -_ Love Omega - _Branches from our roots, limbs.  The formula for photosynthesis is 6CO2 + 6H2O + light energy = C6H12O6 + 6O2. –_ He’s hurt _\-  The case of the limbed corpse with -_ every bone, every organ, every tissue coming from _\- diverse donors. Megadiverse -_ take care with my omega _\-  Peru is a megadiverse country with habitats ranging from the arid plains of the Pacific coastal region in the west to the peaks of the Andes mountains –_ Home _\- vertically extending from the north to the southeast of the country to the tropical Amazon Basin rainforest in the east with the Amazon river. - 9.1900° S, 75.0152° W -_ London _\- Rain. Umbrella. Black polyester, thirty-five inches long from handle to ferrule, Malacca handle. A gift for Mycroft. –_ Slow down _\- Mycroft. Brother. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock. He lies._ His mind twists and turns _\- Like a snake. A snake. A feared animal: long, potentially lethal an…. - {STOP!}_   -

John gritted his teeth at the onslaught of…thoughts? Less true words of thoughts, more like instinctive impressions of thoughts, yet John understood them. More than what the alpha knew he would process, raced through his mind in less than two seconds. Thoughts most of which he instinctively knew were not all his until that last.

John felt as his omega’s thoughts slowed, almost went still. The omega blinked, looked to him confused, his beautiful bloodied lips in a moue of surprise as his body went lax with it. There was a tranquility in his mind almost as if the omega had taken a narcotic.

Sherlock leaned back with a sound not quite a bark, not quite a roar and slowly bared his neck to his alpha in desire of reciprocation.

The alpha pushed the omega flat on his back one hand at the omega’s throat, his canines already in the omega’s bond bite.

They gave and they took simultaneously.

Exhilaration. Fear. Madness. Strength. Love.

Alpha felt the pulse of the twins within his own blood.

Omega not in imminent danger unsheathed his claws and trailed them along John’s bearded jaw.

When Sherlock pulled back at last, John understood completely.

John _purred_ at the full black he saw in Sherlock’s eye sockets.

The bloody smiles from each were dangerous, feral and enticing to both of them.

Alpha Rut and the slick of Omega Heat scented the air.

The omega sat up as his alpha released his neck and took the alpha’s hand from his throat and slid it to his abdomen.

It was much like the very first John felt his pups as he dropped fully out of his monster

“{Welcome back, Alpha.}” Sherlock said aloud.

John understood that was for Mycroft and his team to understand it was safe. It was over.

John knew it was not. Not yet.

Not until he told what he did in words.

“{Brook purposely kept me on IVs for my base nutritional needs, only increasing me to the bare necessities after he realized it was not going to achieve his goals. You know I began to atrophy. I can scent that you have to some degree as well…}” John paused as he wondered how to phrase the rest of what he needed to say.

_Alphas are carnivores for a reason. How do I say I purposely consumed some of my kills because the alpha instinctively knows that fresh protein has the best healing properties?_

“{You fed. I deduced it the moment I saw you.}”  Sherlock spoke and spared him the inner turmoil.

_Of course, he knew. He is Sherlock Holmes after all._

Still, John knew the actions of their secondary genders at core are not always palatable to their human mindset.

He sat back and waited.

He waited for the revulsion, the rejection and then realized none were forthcoming.

Sherlock simply stated a fact.

"You live, my alpha. You did what you had to do to find your way back to me and we live. I will not fault you anything you have done to achieve such. All four of us - we live, Alpha. We live!" Sherlock reached out and held his face between his hands.

The act of giving understanding, of giving absolution from the only person for whom it mattered to the alpha whelmed him. John shuddered in Sherlock's grasp. The relief of his omega’s acceptance slackened the tension held in his body as his omega brought his lips closer to kiss him.

The alpha, in desperation of his omega's acceptance of the near unspeakable gratefully received that understanding, the absolution.

Sherlock raised a clawed hand into his hair and brought his head to his bite. John sighed as he gave it lick and groaned. Pain flared up in several places on his body at once, searing and sharp. If it could hurt on him, it did. Still, his hands caressed his omega’s abdomen. He smiled tremulously as he enjoyed the pups’ movements and gave them his love. He sat back and looked at the naked omega before him.

He sensed the part of Victor that was and will always be a part of his omega. He realized that was what changed, what he had scented earlier though he was not quite sure how or why until they bonded anew.

He also sensed the joy, relief and love that poured from Sherlock that was for him and him alone.

_Mine. He’s mine. And I am his._

“Wait. I thought I compelled you not to interfere, Omega.” He laughed hoarsely as the thought came to him.

“You did not compel me not to help you live, Alpha.” Sherlock countered.

“Leave it to you to find a loophole.”

“Of course.”

When they kissed again, it became something more.

Something much more.

Neither felt as each dropped deep to core.

The alpha felt it his omega began a low harmonic beneath him.

-song-song-omega-song-song-

And then that low harmonic was in him as it seemed every synapses within him came alive.

The alpha leaned forward and sniffed the omega’s wrist as he emitted a low rumble in counterpoint to the omega’s harmonics.

-song-song-alpha-song-song-

Whatever was left of the tattered clothing John wore was ripped from as the need for bodily contact drove them. All either wanted was to hold each other. To feel each other skin to skin. To feel loved.

The alpha and omega took and gave of their hearts instinctively, the calm, the peace of loving flowed back and forth between them and then it shifted.

The alpha felt it when the omega raised a clawed hand into his hair and pulled his head toward the bond bite. Alpha happily licked and sucked at the gland as this omega moaned in the pleasure of it. The swell of his pregnancy more pronounced and his erection evident as his back arched and he began to slick in omega heat at the beginning scent of alpha rut.

The two never noticed that the room cleared, not that either would have cared if it hadn’t; as the alpha claimed and mated his omega.


	68. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For over a year Alpha John Watson and his Omega Sherlock Holmes skirted around the edges of having a connection different than any other either have known. After being kidnapped and rescued in South America a new aspect of their connection has emerged in that the omega has equally bonded the alpha. There are questions and along with Sherlock's brother, Alpha Mycroft Holmes they hope to find some answers to what makes the two unique. 
> 
> They just have to find the home of a certain little old lady first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted Chapter 67 over the weekend in honor of the one year anniversary of "Dearest Life". For those who may have missed it, you will want to read that first.

When the John and Sherlock stepped out of the room at last, it was Mycroft and Lauren who greeted them. Sherlock could read how his brother saw them.

Alpha John Watson: Bloodied. Bruised. Crack ribs. Dislocated shoulder throbbed. Multiple lacerations. Middle, phalanges fracture of the third left toe, limped as he leaned lightly on his omega. No alphas of comparable strengths can survive a death match as he had unscathed. He will heal, but Dr. Watson will bear the scars of that fight externally and internally for the rest of his life.

Omega Sherlock Holmes: Bloodied. Bruised. He winced slightly as he pulled something that hurt. He bore his own welts and lacerations, some that will heal cleanly, some to be a reminder of these past three weeks for the rest of his life.

Sherlock noted Mycroft’s raised brow. It was a slight move, but one that spoke volumes.

_He knows me well, he knows there is something very different, beyond scent._

Sherlock shook his head in a slight movement and then tilted it in an even more slight movement. Mycroft gave an equally slight nod in acknowledgement.

_I am changed. We are changed. I will explain when I can._

The two emerged from the room and looked every inch of the emotional hell that had been the past three weeks of their lives. Still, John kissed Sherlock’s knuckles of their joined hands.

_Yes, Brother Mine, we are not whole, but we are happy._

_Very satisfied._

_And very, very naked._

“I imagine there are shower facilities here of which you’d like to make use. And perhaps clothes you’d care to don?” the elder Holmes brother addressed the approaching men. Lauren passed the two garment bags she held to Mycroft.

Sherlock felt John’s amusement at how Mycroft schooled his expression in the face of their nakedness, knowing that upset him nearly as much as their injured states.

Mycroft exhaled deeply in exasperation - like a parent trying to reign in their temper in the face of an unruly child. The unruly child in this case being his alpha who, even with his limp, managed to _swing_ a little more than warranted for his stride.

Lauren, who luckily stood behind her boss, stifled her grin. Mycroft flicked his eyes over his shoulder aware of his subordinate’s barely smothered amusement at the antics.

“Shower obviously. Otherwise, I’m actually quite comfortable as is.” Sherlock said straight faced and gave his own _swing_ in tandem with his alpha.

Lauren quickly turned her head. If a smile was spotted or something akin to a snort heard, it was solely due to discomfiture of her sudden coughing fit.

“Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, take a shower and put on your trousers!” Mycroft shoved the garment bags at them forcing the two to accept them.

“But you know he didn’t say anything about pants, did he?” John stage whispered as Lauren led them to the closest washroom. She had wisely waited until she was well out of earshot of her boss before she sniggered with them. Sherlock was sorry to ruin their joviality when he asked if they found Hemmings and she confirmed that they had.

Sherlock told her of the agent’s bravery. She told them what it cost. Sebastian had not only shot the man, but took a moment to mutilate. It would not be because of bullets Agent Hemmings’ family will need a closed casket service.

“Still, I thank you for telling me.” She nodded gratefully, “If he had to go down, this was how he would have wanted.”

“Someone located your belongings as they rummaged the facility. Your respective IDs etcetera are here. Sherlock, I also included a pair of trousers from the…room…in case a more comfortable fit was needed.” She handed the men their clothes and John the medical kit she also carried.

“Thank you, we’ll try not to take too long.” Sherlock accepted the clothes knowing she would wait while they showered, tended to their wounds and dressed. Mycroft was taking no chances.

<><><> 

“Are your thoughts always like this?” John asked softly as they finished dressing.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock looked to him.

“Your mind. I understood that you and your brother maintain and process information much faster than the average person. But I can feel your mind within mine. I cannot quite read it, it’s a little too fast for me. I feel like a toddler being dragged by an impatient parent in comparison.” John admitted.

In his more impatient moods Sherlock has called John an idiot, but the good doctor was not an idiot by any means.

“You’re far too hard on yourself. Alpha. The majority of the world is early primary school to me, my brother thinks you're all goldfish.” Sherlock tried to explain. Feeling John’s sense of inadequacy not abating he added, “You’re more graduate level. Lestrade - and don’t you dare tell him I said this- is uni. Anderson is a squalling newborn that just soiled its nappy.”

That brought the small snicker Sherlock hoped. Sherlock stopped and ran a gentle hand along John’s face careful of the swelling along the cheek and eye socket.

_You’re hiding your pain from me, John. You know I know this._

“Yours feel like peace to my mind.”

“Peace…?”

“At one of the crime scenes or perhaps Baker Street I asked what it must be like in your funny little brains, that it must be boring…”

“I know you are not about to tell me you were being sarcastic.” John huffed.

“No, I was being completely honest.” Sherlock countered, “And I still hold that to be true for most other minds.”

“Other minds?”

Sherlock was well aware many despised him for his mind, for his intelligence and skill. John from the beginning had offered only praise and admiration when he displayed his genius. Sometimes he looked bewildered as to why the rest of the world did not appreciate Sherlock's genius as he did. Joh corrected Sherlock only when he forgot himself and picked apart someone undeserving of his always truthful, but often tactless and sometimes cruel deductions.

Still, Sherlock never hid the fact that he found most people dull and idiots, but not John once he got to know him. John is _clever_ , not in the way of Sherlock or Mycroft, but more intelligent than John gives himself credit for at times. The moments when Sherlock saw John's unique of genius shine through in the form of a shrewdly phrased question or seemingly pointless, but ultimately vital, observation was always treasured.

Now he sees, he feels John’s mind in a new context. Concise and methodical and unless triggered by a sharp emotion, so incredibly tranquil. The closest Sherlock comes to feeling such was when he was on drugs.

“Not yours, John. You feel the constant chaos that is my mind, I feel the peace that is yours. It is not singular, you are not boring. You could never be. You mentally multitask, but it is still focused. That focus, feels like peace to me. Like when you send calm.”

Sherlock opened the door to the washroom. John’s face showed a slight hint of his pains as he brought his lips to Sherlock’s, but he did not stop until a throat was softly cleared after a few moments. They had a witness.

“Gentlemen?”

Lauren led them to the carport, where they found Mycroft, Anthea and Agent Alfred along with myriad others on various devices going through the process of taking the facility apart.

There was no sign of Víspera.

“You look…satiated.” Anthea called out dryly from the back seat of the jeep she sat in, her mobile for once beside her and not in her hand, Agent Alfred by her side. “And clean from what I understood you to have looked like earlier.”

Sherlock had seen the woman not perfectly in control exactly once: the mission where he had literally dropped everything to help her smuggle and injured Mycroft out of hostile territory. She was smooth, controlled, efficiency as they worked together to smuggle his brother and themselves into friendly borders where they were taken by Medivac to a trauma center. The doors to the operating room had just shut in their worried faces. The stress of that three-week mission, the immediate 48 hours of Mycroft nearly losing his life and the rescue, had taken its toll. Anthea, her face grimy, hair a mess, her suit torn in places, looked to Sherlock to speak, but it was not words that came out of her mouth as she simply broke down in his arms. He knew that had only happened because he was there. He was honored she felt safe enough to do so. When done, she wordlessly walked away and went to the ladies’ washroom. Once returned, her eyes were still a little puffy, but with a single nod of thanks she was back in agent mode again. To this day, neither of them ever spoke of that one human moment between them; to themselves or anyone else.

Thus, Sherlock eyes went wide at the sight of Anthea’s injuries he could see and more at what he deduced. Only John beside him, looked worse.

“And you look like absolute shite!” John said to her in no uncertain terms.

“Flatterer.” The woman shot back as she dreamily beamed at him. “I know you love your omega, I will not be your next continent, Captain Watson!”

Agent Alfred’s jaw slackened as he looked for their boss, thankful Mycroft was not within earshot of their conversation.

_Oh, he is never going to let her live that down. Not that I’m going to when this is over._

“Oooooh, look at you!” John chuckled, “You must be on the _good_ stuff. And who the bloody hell tied that sling for you, a six-year-old? I thought you Jane and James Bond types had better field training in first aid than that!”

Sherlock shook his head fondly when John released his hand. The alpha  swung the medical kit from his shoulder as he limped away in complete doctor mode.

_And he’s off._

Sherlock turned and walked over to his brother. Mycroft sported a bruise along his jaw and his clothes were a far cry from his usual fastidiousness. Otherwise he was in full Iceman mode. Sherlock found an odd comfort in the familiarity of his brother’s verbal disdain for his colleagues.

Mycroft gave him a short nod in acknowledgement of his presence as he spoke on the phone.

“I know you have questions, Gareth, but you know these things sometimes happens to such buildings where they are rarely held up to code. The least little unexpected thing can spell disaster. The facility is an inferno.” He lied smoothly.

_I gather it will be in another hour or so._

Sherlock arched an amused brow as Lauren looked around the fire free carpark in exaggerated mock confusion.

_Comedian you are not. A good agent you are._

“I do not recall having said it earlier. Thank you, McParland.”

“Just doing my job, but you’re welcome.” Her warm eyes flicked to Mycroft and she dropped her voice, “He does worry so. And all this…? Let’s just say those of us who saw him in action today are never going to talk about it once we leave here, but we are never going to forget it either. I am going to miss the beard though, it gives him a rougish look. Don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

_Oh, and you like rouges, do you?_

“Scout’s Honor.” Sherlock looked to the omega knowing she had no interest in her boss, just honestly liked the look.

“You, Mr. Holmes, was never a scout.” Lauren grinned.

“I have no control over what you claim you do not have reports of yet. I assure you the facility is naught but smoldering rubbish.” Mycroft’s voice was smooth, sincerity even as his words were blatant lies.

“Break the spokes of a wheel, replace it with the spokes of another and hide it away. If asked, then say the wheel was beyond repair and useless, at least until the wheel is needed.” Sherlock mumbled more to himself, but he knew by the slight arch of his brother’s brow Mycroft had heard.

“Just so.” was Mycroft’s only verbal acknowledgement as he continued to speak on the phone. “I will answer what I will when I am back in London. Which will happen faster once I have hung up with you. Good-bye, Gareth.”

“Where is she?” Sherlock asked without preamble as soon as Mycroft rang out.

Mycroft did not bother to ask who.

“She went _home_. She said that you and John would know the way.”

Sherlock caught himself by surprise as his head automatically oriented toward the mountains he could not see from inside the building. He noted that his brother did not react similarly.

“When you arrived in Lima, did you not feel a sense of fernweh…for the mountains?” Sherlock asked.

Mycroft looked in the same direction Sherlock had as though trying to sense it himself, but failing.

“The mountains?” Mycroft frowned. “No, I have not, but I take it you and John have?”

“Yes. Do we dare to deduce how you, John and I have met a lovely old lady at the airport, and yet…?”

“…And yet none of us questioned her sudden appearance here.” Mycroft finished Sherlock’s unspoken thought.  “She called me _Unkind_ from the beginning. You and John – she knew.  Your scents – they’re different. You’re both still you, yet you both scent like her now. It changed when you - did what you did…are you…?”

Sherlock’ frowned slightly as he watched his brother struggle.

_So, neither of us read as alpha nor omega?_

He could all but see the many questions so bottlenecked in Mycroft’s mind, none could reach his lips.

“I still feel like me, but… more so? John’s blood in mine from his bond did and continues to _boost me_ …” Sherlock rolled his eyes at the term “As his direct bondmate, I have received the best - dosage – for lack of a better word. However, what I feel now, is so much _more_ …”

_Say it. Say it, Brother Mine. I am the walking epitome of the average alpha’s worst nightmare. How many alphas would change their ways if their omega could reciprocate their treatment?_

“But Sherlock, you… you _bonded_ your alpha!” Mycroft half whispered, half hissed.

Mycroft said the words with some confusion, but mostly with honest wonder.

_I can accept that._

“Yes, I, an omega, bonded an alpha.” The curly haired detective looked over to John, who very much still in doctor mode now checked Anthea’s foot. The doctor felt him and looked up, his eyes scanned the carport and stopped once they found his.

“{Mine.}” The alpha pointed to the omega.

“{Yours.}” The omega gave a nod to the alpha.

“{Yours.}” John placed his left hand flat over his heart and then held it out to give.

“{Mine.}” Sherlock held out his right hand to receive and then placed it flat over his heart.

Anthea said something to the doctor that made him grin before he returned to tending to her. Sherlock turned back to the all too placid expression of his brother.

_Don’t you dare laugh – oh it’s not laughter…_

“You’ll be back to him soon, Mycroft.” Sherlock said gently. “Let’s go home and get some answers, so we can go home.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. And where exactly is _home_?”

* * *

 

“You are not serious?” Mycroft stared at the kilometers of seemingly nothing but dense foliage as they climbed out of the boats and pulled them to shore.

Anthea, too injured to accompany them, nonetheless refused to leave the country without Mycroft. She waited in Lima, for their return. The facility was plundered for whatever intelligence could be uploaded. Though photos were taken of the aftermath, John had effectively trashed the lab in those first moments of his blind monstrous delirium. Much to John and Sherlock’s delight, and headquarters’ chagrin, Mycroft had viewed the lab personally and determined the few biological samples left was tainted and would not be of use. They made use of the discovery of Brook’s own failsafe designed to burn everything to the ground. Extra charges were placed in the lab to insure absolutely nothing would be recoverable but bones.

Eventually, several dozen families would receive compensation to tide them over during the rebuild of the manufacturing plant to better safety specifications so such a catastrophic fire that claimed several lives would never happen again.

A few of the more stupid of the hired mercenaries between Brook, Moran and Sir Edwin were found. Of those found, some remain detained, some released and others were – not. Victor Gabriel Trevor was not among the ones found.

“He’s an amnesiac, yes, but he could never be that stupid, Mycroft.” Sherlock said in his former alpha’s defense. Both brothers were oblivious to his current alpha’s raised brow.

Mycroft had purposely chosen the late hours when less people would be there to execute the operation. Approximately six hours after the power cut, the first call reported the massive flames that quickly engulfed the manufacturing plant came in. Views of the black smoke plumes, seen for kilometers, was gone from their rearview mirrors some hours ago as two jeeps rode out of the city in the dawn. Sherlock, John and Schau, another beta agent in one, Mycroft, Agent Alfred and Lauren McParland followed in the other.

Sherlock and John had no idea where they were going. Both, Alpha and Omega, navigated solely by feel.

 [“You believe in no deity, but I will ask you to have faith in your brother.”]

_Old woman, I fear you may have asked for too much of me._

It was by feel that when they saw the horses, they knew they had to leave their jeeps behind.

It was a twenty-minute argument as John and Sherlock instinctively realized the two beta agents, could not come.

“You don’t even know where the bloody hell you’re going!” the exasperated Agent Schau bellowed.

Mycroft raised a noticeable _I beg your pardon_ brow.

“Sorry sir.” Schau immediately demurred.

As one John and Sherlock, and to their own surprise, Mycroft and Lauren each pointed in the exact same direction. Wherever they were going, they were close enough that even Mycroft and Lauren had begun to feel the pull.

Agent Alfred threw up his hands in concession and then immediately climbed out of the jeep and threw up.  It was mostly dry heaves at this point, but he lurched violently nonetheless.

The alphas and omegas were fine as they climbed in elevation. Lauren had suggested the beta agents might benefit from coca tea1 both had turned it down. Agent Schau had admitted to feeling a little breathless, but was otherwise fine. Agent Alfred had not fared as well with his altitude sickness as they climbed.  Mycroft knew the agent was glad to be left behind.

“For God’s sake Agent Alfred go get some _mate de coca_ or whatever coca tea they have here and hope it helps.” Mycroft shook his head at the agent. “You’ll have time to get it out of your system before we go home, but if you are pulled and fail, I’ll vouch for you.”

“Yes, sir.”

_Argument over then._

It was by feel that when they saw the canoes, they had to leave the leave the horses behind.

It was by feel when John spotted the opening, which Sherlock agreed did not look right, they knew it time to go on foot.

Connectivity to the outside world ended when they left the horses behind.

They were totally on their own.

Mycroft, who abandoned his blazer at the jeep for a jacket, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves to assist in rowing. John took the front oar, Sherlock navigated, Lauren manned the rucksacks and Mycroft took the aft oar.

Mycroft Looked around. There was something unsettling hearing nothing but natural sounds. The bubbling stream behind them. The wind that whooshed through the trees. The insects. The animals.

“Some sections of these are thousands of years old. And still have no roads. You just have to know…”  The sun had begun its first signs of setting as Sherlock spotted a foot path that rose up higher. “This way.”

They had reached a ridge that overlooked a different curve of the river they left, land spread wide below them.

“We’re here.” Sherlock had closed his eyes. The slight wind tossed his curls.

“ _A dance of space and earth entwine_  
_In coral velvets and currant wine,_  
_Is how Sol bows and takes his leave_  
_And She ascends in her noir weave_  
_The verdant grounds in dark align_  
_As Nyx doth claim her right divine”_

Lauren breathed in reverence at the sight of the low rays of the sun as it washed the sky in violet and marigold hues.

“Nice.” John whispered in equal reverence. "Yours?"

She nodded absently - captivated by the view.

Mycroft understood how she felt. It was a glorious vista before them.

_Yet, we are still outside in wilderness and it is quickly getting dark. Where is this “home”?_

“Is this then the door?” John pointed to a faint outline in the mountainside behind them as he took lowered his rucksack as well. It followed the natural formation, yet one knew it was not natural.

It was one of the several things, just a little outside of the norm that had guided them along the way. Enough so that that three of the four walked to it to look.

Lauren felt along the outline, “Appears to be of some sort of a subterranean access.”

“Because it is.” Sherlock said from behind them “This outline can only be seen in the evening. This is the home of Eve.”

“As in Adam and Eve?” Lauren looked back to him.

Mycroft saw her first as she rounded from side of them.

_You told me to have faith in my brother. You knew the two of them would lead us here and they have, well done._

This was not the little old lady from the airport, yet it was her nonetheless.

Gone were the myriad fabrics that made up her vendor look at the airport and at the facility. She wore a heavy linen shift intricately and colorfully embroidered at the hem, collar and cuffs and up along the sleeves.

_It is the same symbols as in the scroll._

Before where her head was mostly bound under wraps, her salt and pepper hair now flowed free and showed her gold ear flares. Multiple necklaces still adorned her neck, a necklace of long, looped cylindrical gold and round turquoise-colored beads somehow had prominence. Eight brooches carved from animal bones and shaped like various wolves, were pinned to the fabric It. looked familiar, but there was no time to search his memory. She carried a copper ceremonial ax as one would a scepter.

Every fiber in Mycroft’s being told him the accessories were so old they would need carbon dating to have an idea.

“No, as in Víspera.” Mycroft nodded to the woman and her retinue who approached them.

“Hello Kind and Unkind. _Welcome home_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Mote do Coca or Coca Tea is an herbal tea (infusion) made using the raw or dried leaves of the coca plant, which is native to South America. The tea is most commonly consumed in the Andes mountain range, particularly Argentina, Bolivia, Colombia, and especially in Peru, where it is consumed all around the country. Coca tea is often recommended for travelers in the Andes to prevent altitude sickness. However, its actual effectiveness has never been systematically studied. Chewing coca leaves or drinking coca tea can give you an energy boost and also has a number of traditional medicinal uses, including as an anesthetic and analgesic. 
> 
> Though the amount of the narcotic itself in the leaves is very low, copious consumption of the tea can result in a positive drug test for the presence of cocaine. The tea is illegal in the US and UK. People have lost employment after being subjected to a random drug screening after returning from South America. This is why Mycroft tells Alfred, if a drug test happens and he fails, he will vouch for the agent.  
> ^^ Return to Paragraph
> 
> Víspera's look as herself was a mix taken from sites with information on ancient burial rituals of the period.


	69. Lineage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha John Watson, Omega Sherlock Holmes and Alpha Mycroft Holmes have always known they were unlike others of their kind before they came to South America. After everything that has happened and the new changes between them, John and his omega they have questions. After an laborious trek to find her, they hope a mysterious old woman has answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like with the scroll, Muse went on an epic historical and mythological bent here. It is one of my longer chapters to boot, I beg forgiveness for the indulgence.

Sherlock did not try to understand the complexity of what he saw.

There was old. There was historical. There was ancient.

Then there was – whatever it was - that was beyond those.

He had never seen anything like it in his entire life and yet it was as familiar to him as worn-down slippers.

He knew. Knew. Knew beyond anything that he belonged here. That they belonged here.

This was _home_.

Víspera led the way, the four followed her and her retinue of five followed them all.

“{John...?}” Sherlock felt a noticeable shift in his alpha’s mood.

“{I feel you within me. It is the same as before and yet not. It is so much…more. It is a unique sensation. Feeling bonded from the other side.}” John squeezed his hand.

Sherlock knew what John felt, because he felt it as well.

“{I do not understand it all either, but I suspect we all will before we leave.” Sherlock returned the squeeze.

“Now I understand how silent conversation feels to an outsider.” Mycroft’s voice was both aggrieved and approving.

“Not that it will stop the two of you from doing it.” John looked over his shoulder at Mycroft and waved a finger between the two brothers.

Sherlock glanced at Mycroft. _He does have a point, Brother Mine._

Mycroft raised brow at Sherlock. _Which we’ve just proven._

“Oh, that’s just _wonderful_! Three of you talking without speaking.” Lauren mumbled.

All conversation stopped as they were walked onto the stage of an amphitheater carved entirely in the ground, well inside the mountain. It was not all lit, but what could be seen appeared as though it could easily seat a few thousand.

John, whose hand tightly gripped his, and Lauren stared with open awe. Even his usually unflappable brother wore an expression of absolute wonder and contentment. Sherlock quickly stored the moment away knowing how unlikely it was he would ever see such on Mycroft again.

_She wants us to see this – why?_

“Has this ever been filled to capacity?” John whispered his query, as though speaking too loudly would wake them from this dream.

“Over such in the early days. The last time was over a man’s millennium ago.” She answered as she led the way to an anteroom. One from the retinue ran forward just as she reached the entrance and opened a door.

They entered the anteroom. Rich tapestries adorned the walls and beautiful frescoes adorned the ceiling. Artifacts filled niches in the walls. Though more Aztec/Mayan due to the location, but there were influences of Egyptian, Asuka, Ottoman and Renaissance. From the visual interior there was little to hint one was inside a mountain. Sherlock breathed in the scent of the more than ancient place.

A table laden with food and refreshments lined a wall. In the center of the room there were exactly five matching chairs around a table. The beautiful inlaid wood was dark, ornate and heavy.

Sherlock was not surprised the door closed behind them as the five entered. He was surprised by how unworried they all were by it. Even Mycroft barely glanced behind him at the closed door as he and his brother eyed the table and each other.

_A round table, she places us on even footing for this, though I suspect we are not._

“Ah, you had watchers at the last town where we left Mycroft’s beta agents. You expected the three of us, yet there is a place for Lauren. Thank you for including her.” John pointed to a chair, then headed straight to the food table. He found a bowl of water, soap and towels stacked at the far end. After simple ablutions, he started to make sandwiches. “Oh, you have tea! Brilliant!”

Lauren shook an amused head as she caught Sherlock’s eye roll that all but said the words: _John and his tea!_

“I suspect this is older than the ages everyone in this room combined and sextupled.” Mycroft fingers ran his fingers along the table worm smooth with use and time as he sat. “Except perhaps _yours_.”

“And just how old am I Unkind?” Víspera placed her ceremonial axe down on the center table as she also sat. Mycroft could have taken lessons on inscrutability from her as she managed to look simultaneously curious and bored.

“Even I cannot begin to truly fathom. You said over a man’s millennium – that failure in mathematics is actually only a thousand years. I imagine you were already an adult then. If I can accept that figure alone, I can accept that you knew about the scroll because you were there.” Mycroft answered evenly. As smooth as it was, it was not enough to hide the slight tremor in the face of that truth.

Lauren who had joined Watson at the food table, gasped and looked at the woman.

“No, she was not just there, Mycroft. She created the scroll.” Sherlock pointed at the necklace she wore. “That is her her sigil, her stamp.”

Víspera looked to them in silent contemplation. It was very much the way he had observed his brother at debriefings when Mycroft would quietly sit and deduce everyone. It was done in a way that you knew you were being judged by your better and they wanted you to know it.

That she looked upon them as so somehow seemed _right_.

“You two truly are remarkable. Eat first and we will begin.”

John had taken a seat. He pulled a scandalized Sherlock from his seat onto his lap.

Víspera grinned as Sherlock gave his alpha a withering look, which John deftly ignored.

“{I am not a damsel!}”

“{True, but you are my omega who brings life with our pups and we both have just been through the ringer. I need to hold you. I am not asking.}”

He was not asking. This was not John’s monster that wreaked havoc. This was his alpha.

[“I do need to give as you need to receive. It literally is my pleasure to give to you.”]

Sherlock demurred and allowed himself to be fed.

“Your turn, sir.”

“Excuse me?” Mycroft looked up at Lauren incredulously as a plate of two meat laden sandwiches, a few biscuits and a cup of tea was placed in front of him.

“Sir, I have not seen you consume as much as a cup of coffee in nearly forty-eight hours. If you think for one moment I am explaining to Anthea as to why you have a migraine or are surlier than usual because you did not eat, you are sorely mistaken. For a beta, she scares the shite out of me nearly as much as you.” Lauren pointed at the sandwich and tea.

John turned to Mycroft, “What is with the two of you Holmes brothers and not eating? You especially need the protein as an alpha, Mycroft. Eat.”

“And what if I refuse?” Mycroft sat back in his seat and crossed his arms in a near petulant carbon copy of his baby brother.

“My god, it does run in the family!” John groaned.

Sherlock turned, arched a brow at his big brother and dropped his two pence salvo.

“I will tell Gregory.”

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed as Lauren pointed emphatically at the food now that she had backup.

“Traitors, the lot of you.” Mycroft grumbled as he picked up a sandwich and bit, but eyed Sherlock specifically.

John raised a brow to the younger Holmes and held up a bite of sandwich.

“{John…}” Sherlock sighed as he realized the hypocrisy of telling Mycroft to eat when he himself whinged about it. He most certainly was not going to openly admit to the deep-rooted omega instinct that enjoyed it.

“{Yes, qarar?}” John flicked his eyes to him as he broke off another part and held it out.

Sherlock was sure John was not aware he said it. It slipped out so naturally. Sherlock had all but forgotten the man was familiar with a third language until then.

_Solace._

As erudite and loquacious Sherlock knows he can be at any given moment the utter speechlessness with which that simple term of endearment and the flood of emotions that had come with it left him astounded.

John felt the overwhelming emotion and turned to Sherlock again, first with a slight frown and then a shy smile as he realized what he had said. He put down the sandwich piece and joined their hands.

“{Da zrra qarara}” he whispered and brought their joined hands to his lips.

_You’re the reason my heart is at ease._

A few simple words that were anything but.

Sherlock bowed his head more to give himself time to process the dual emotions more than anything else. When John picked up the sandwich section and fed it to him, he accepted it with grace. Alphas fed their omegas publicly around others of their kind often. Especially when the omega was pregnant. Sherlock, never having allowed Victor to feed him except on special occasions, simply did not understand the appeal. As he opened himself to John, he understood the satisfaction from his view. The instinct of knowing you’re doing well by your omega. The need to do such and know you’ve done it well.

Sherlock knew he felt this from John’s perspective, it was almost like being in his body. John suddenly flushed and looked to him. Sherlock knew the alpha felt his emotion and the thought almost as if it were John’s own, but Sherlock voiced it in mindspeak anyway. It was so simple so peaceful.

“{I thought I knew love with Victor. I was wrong. So very wrong.}”

“{We know.}” John smiled sweetly.

John ran a gentle hand along Sherlock’s back, careful of his wounds. When finished he said nothing as Sherlock slid back to his own chair but moved it closer, so John could lay a hand on his abdomen with him. The twins were calm under their touch.

Lauren made a plate for herself and another of various fruits and placed it in the middle of the table for all to reach.

“Thank you, child.” Víspera smiled as she pulled some grapes for herself.

“Shall we?” Mycroft sat back, when all was near finished with their respective meals.

“Always to the point Unkind. It is why one like she is needed. Your kind have always been bad at taking care of yourselves. Hers has always been good at ensuring you do.” She looked to Lauren and then Mycroft. “Fine. We shall.”

“You call Mycroft Unkind. But he and Sherlock are siblings, are they not the same kind?” John asked.

“Let me begin with the basics: I am named Eve as in the time of day in which I was born. That is usually one of the first questions asked of me. I am not _that_ Eve.”

“Yet you are far older than any of us can possibly fathom, but you are not immortal.”

“I cannot speak for the others. I know that I am older than Inca, than Wari, than Tiwanaku.

“But you are among the first, if not the first of us?” Lauren asked.

“No. But I had feared I was the last.” She looked to John and Sherlock pointedly “Until you.”

Víspera answered soberly. “Let me tell and then you can ask.”

 

> Huaricanga, which existed around 3500 BC, is considered one of the earliest cities in the world. In Tiwanaku and Wari cultures images of the Staff God appear. Usually pictured holding a staff in each hand, with fanged teeth and splayed and clawed feet, his other physical characteristics are unknown. He is known as Viracocha in the Incan religion. While beta archeologists have claimed him as a major deity in Andean cultures. The Lycaon believe him to be the First Alpha of any _Kind_. Viracocha was many scores beyond an age that man can count.
> 
> No one knows if there were more. At the time anything could be recorded there were eight: Ancient Egyptians, Norte Chico, Mesopotamians, Jiahu, ‘Ain Ghazal, Çatalhöyük, Mehrgarh and Aboriginal. They were called The Eight.
> 
> Each of The Eight had a sacred place never seen by beta eyes called a Hearth. The pull Sherlock and John felt that led them to Víspera in the Andes was called Hearthing. That wanting to come to the hearth of home, if you will. And a kind can only feel the hearth call of their own kind if they are close enough. Even as kind traveled and blended with other kind and beta, if the blood proved strong they will feel their Hearth.
> 
> What was recorded was one day an ancestor and their mate felt a strong pull to go to what would one day be known as Egypt. Even that _one day_ was far too many years in the future before the kings and queens of the Nile the area will one day be known for to count. Each pair that attended represented a _Kind_. Each pairing had definite physical and physiological differences, but each innately understood upon meeting they were one as lycaon versus the betas of the world.
> 
> The pull the eight pairs felt was called the _Yearning_. It was the most apt description for each pairing who make the pilgrimage when certain lycaon Kind felt the need to gather in one place. No one knows the history before the First Yearning. It was lost with those that lived it. There were eight kinds that felt the pull to go to the youngest known among them. One pairing for what were the major continents of the time.
> 
> At first, each Kind had only consorted and mated with their own kind. After the first Yearning they knew others existed and began to mingle with other kinds, but only other lycaon Kinds. No one knew who was first among the kinds to mix with betas. By the time of the next Yearning, four different kinds reported such mixing twixt kinds and betas had been an occurrence for scores. Because none at the Second Yearning, at Norte Chico, were at the First, none noticed there was one less kind until scores later when evidence of their existence was found. Though none at the Third Yearning at Mesopotamia were at the Second, a few had learned storytelling when the first cuentistas came into being and told of other kinds that they began to notice and take note. With the Fourth Yearning at Jiahu, they knew.
> 
> Faint traces of the past kinds could still be found many scores after they last appeared at a Yearning, but their numbers grew less. When little to no trace of a kind can be found it was called a Downing. There are two known Downings - Cascus and Itati that last of either Kind was seen over seven thousand years ago.2

“Your existence is the sum of abstract genetic fluctuations inherent in every human being regardless of primary or secondary gender. A result of which from a true thousand years to thousand years will provide the proper genetic sequence needed to create that which is the totality of the dynamic of your brother and his alpha. And you, Unkind.”

Heads turned to look at Mycroft.

“Me?”

 “Upon first seeing you I said your honor has served her well. I know you thought I meant your current crown.”

“You’re saying my line, an Unkind, has served before the crown through time.”

“Not exactly.”

“You’re saying an Unkind of has served you before.” John frowned slightly.

“Closer.”

“If every thousand years, give or take, genetics realign in the universe to create the potential that is John and I as modern day Cahriah and Moritz, then it goes to surmise your genetic Kind also falls into that equation and realigns.” Sherlock bowed his head to the woman.

“She is saying that a specific genetic of Kind, namely mine, has served her before.” Mycroft tapped the table as he thought.

“You are correct. You have your omega’s Throca intelligence and physical traits and her Sanka creativity, but your core Kind is Rin - as was your sire.” She looked to Mycroft, “Throca is what made you Intelligent, well beyond the normal breadth for such, all Throca became advisers, but only to the best in their field - if they choose to not be that person themselves. Rin is why you are perceived as cold in temperament and thus are loners, for so few understand them. The lucky ones find a mate worthy. The burden of such love is always heavier on the mate and they know it, but take them not for granted, child. The he or she who can love you are rarer than even you.”

Though his brother has given nothing away, Sherlock could tell she knew about Lestrade and Mycroft was aware she knew as well.

Víspera turned to Sherlock. “You are the opposite, having your sire’s Rin physical traits, but your core Kind is as your omega - a mix of Throca and Sanka. You both have astounding intelligence, but yours is tempered by an openness to life he will not have. Your sire and brother are Rin, and you mimic their cold ways, but Sanka are hot tempered within. If he is ice, you are fire. It is why you often clash with your brother, but it is also why you and your alpha mesh so well. His is a hot-tempered Kind as well. The Thorca and Sanka blend is almost always an alpha. You are only the third omega I’ve met as such. You read the scroll – the most well-known of that Kind is the omega Moritz.”

“And me? My…Kind is…Cahriah?” John pushed his sleeve to show his birth mark.

“That mark is what I mean by a trace. There are many marks that look alike, but your mark is true. I understand neither of your parents, nor were their parents or their parents and so on were Kind. Some things skip and tumble through the generations of genetic cocktails, disperse and combine in some cosmic pollination and land somewhere unexpected.”  Víspera rose and walked to John as she spoke. She reached out and touched the birthmark and smiled. “So, yes and no, child. Aemilus Cahriah is the most well-know of Helmer – the warrior Kind also known for their fury and those who know about Kinds use it interchangeably. This true mark has not been seen in flesh in over three thousand years. That cosmic pollination landed on you, John Watson. I sensed it the moment you bonded this omega. You yourself bear both the physical and core traits of Helmer, and their potential madness, but unlike Aemilus Cahriah and others like you that have borne this mark true, yours is tempered by the Samskar in you – very moral.”

“{Strong moral fiber. Told you.}” Sherlock glanced to his alpha.

“{Shut up, you!}” John rolled his eyes, but Sherlock felt his laughter.

“The madness you speak of. How…mad?” Mycroft looked from John, to Sherlock to Víspera.

_Really, Mycroft?_

Mycroft looked to the other man completely unrepentant.

“{I’m trying to remind myself he does it out of love for you, omega.}”

“{I say that to myself every time he annoys me. I hope that reminder works better for you.}”

_Víspera seemed amused by my brother’s spoken question and our silent repartee. Can she read our minds?_

Víspera looked to John as she responded to Mycroft’s question.

“Your core instincts are more pure, natural. Samskar tempers it, but your anger is always closer to the surface. And when you drop, you go deeper than most, you feel it _more_. Because you have been tampered with, the natural safe guards that protect the human in you sometimes fail. You have felt this when you’ve dropped beyond the reach of language as we understand it. You become pure primal instinct. Only a bondmate can reach you to bring you out. Though to balance it, it is usually because of a bondmate either in love, fear or protection that you drop that far.”

“Primal?” Lauren asked.

“The instinct that led you to feed to survive – pure Helmer, they do _whatever_ it takes to survive.” Víspera cupped John’s face in her hands, but flicked her eyes to Sherlock as she continued, “As was the innate desire to mate your omega in your enemy’s blood. It is not pretty, but it was our way. It was a pleasure to see in this modern day, if given the chance, the purer Kinds still turn to it.”

Sherlock gave a slight nod as he remembered she had told him as much at the airport.

“{She knows I was aroused watching you tear Dennison apart.}”

Sherlock had been feeling John’s thoughts, his presence off and on since their secondary bond. Thus, it was disconcerting to feel John shut him out when she touched him. Only John’s reassuring squeeze of his hand let him know it was not meant in harm.

“All Alphas have Aadesh it is what gives them the command voice to varying degrees. All Omegas have Aayakar it is what makes them receptive to the command voice, again in varying degrees. But what makes us all unique is Aadeshyakar.” Víspera looked from John, to Sherlock, to Mycroft and finally to Lauren.

“Aadeshyakar…? A portmanteau! Two Aadeshyakar can bond each other?” Lauren looked to each face astounded. “Us? You are…? I am Aadeshyakar?”

“Not yet, but two you can be?” Sherlock looked to Víspera for confirmation and continued once he had it. “It is why you were allowed to come with us, to not leave you behind as we had the betas.”

“You knew at the airport what John was, what I was. What we could be.” Sherlock thought it out. “Only specific blends of Kind can do what we can do. You can sense us. Sense when we are near.”

“Aadeshyakar are two very specific magnets waiting to be drawn to each other, but that pull is a fine cobweb strand blindly floating in the air waiting to attract, to bind, to connect. One in you, one in John. You meet and connect, and that single silken strand becomes a thread. A thread that needs to be thickened, to be strengthened. You bonded and the connected thread becomes a string. Now that you’ve cross-bonded it has become cord inexorably tied to one another. You are still independent and autonomous individuals, but also a symbiosis of sorts. I can only sense potential Aadeshyakar when the primary bond occurs. All I know is that it exists, and in your case, I knew you were far away. Sensing your existence is no guarantee that you would ever cross bond. After all, I did not know of your existence with your first omega, John, she was not the right Kind. It was unfortunate but needed.”

John nodded painfully, Sherlock squeezed his hand. They both innately understood that she knew about Janine.

_If she had not died, we would not be here._

“But I only knew that possibility that cross bonding existed because of the scroll.” Sherlock frowned.

“We know. When Echeverría, an agent of mine if you will, informed Juan of your interest in the scrolls and asked for cuentista there was hope, but it had to be a natural progression. Forced cross-bonding poisons the blood of both. We could guide, hint, but we could not compel you to do so. To answer your direct question, Lauren, I do not sense the person, just the existence of Aadeshyakar. I knew none of you as individuals until I was close enough to scent you.”   

“But… If you can sense us, then you knew where his brother and his alpha were all this time and you _let_ them - the four of them - suffer! How _could_ you?” Lauren’s tone was dark.

Víspera turned and raised a brow at the woman, Lauren went silent.

_Oh, she is furious to unleash such knowing Víspera can likely kill us all with a thought. And how do I know that?_

Mycroft reached out and grabbed Lauren’s hand in warning. Lauren snatched her hand away and lowered her eyes, but not her head.

_She’s angry and refuses to be penitent, but she is not crazy. Mycroft you do inspire fierce loyalty in your chosen people, I will give you that._

“She honors you with her anger yet respects me with her control. She’s right I would have intervened sooner had I been able. She is not aware of the connection, Unkind. The one you picked up immediately at the airport.”

Sherlock looked to his brother.

_What connection, Brother Mine?_

“She was in severance, Lauren. Even one as she is not immune to such a loss.” Mycroft explained then turned to Víspera. “I imagine coming to the airport was extremely hard, I thank you so much more then. I had no idea.”

_Juan Alcantara! He was her mate - Victor!_

“Severance?” John turned to her, then to Sherlock as he felt the omega’s emotion and understood, “Christ!”

“Blame not yourself, child. He is not in his born mind, I know this. It is the only reason he still lives.” Víspera spoke gently, but firmly, fresh pain etched across her face for a moment as she moved to stand in front of Sherlock and cupped his face.

Sherlock felt an odd tingle and understood why John had shut him out as he automatically did the same.

_This, whatever this is she does, it is for I and I alone._

“Some of us are very long lived, yes, but no we are not immortal, were it not your former alpha who did the actual misdeed, it would have been one of the Nukpana or a beta hired by them. One’s time is one’s time. Even for one as long lived as us descendants of The Eight.”

“I take it that Juan Alcantara was much older than the one hundred and four years he publicly claimed.” Sherlock stated.

“Much.” Víspera agreed and said nothing more.  

“I am sorry nonetheless.”

“Our – my  – longevity is what has made me more sensitive to those who are Aadeshyakar. It’s akin to the sense that led you here. For while all kinds have those with Aadeshyakar in them, the potential to become one is very rare because only very specific purer Kinds can. Even less become one such as me. I would have recognized you as Kind and ignored you as any such traveler to the country. However, I had not sensed a potential Aadeshyakar pairing as yours in over 1700 years. I sensed your approach child, when you were midflight and only because you and this alpha had established the primary bond. John is your alpha, traces of your blood are in him from that first bond, and because I had met you and scented you, I easily recognized him as Kind, as Aadeshyakar and as your alpha on his arrival.”

She gave Sherlock one last gentle touch before she stepped away.

 _It feels like a benediction_.

“You two are siblings, it was easy to sense the pack familiar between you. But it was the sense of your Kind that made me stay and await your arrival. As you especially understand, Unkind, sometimes even grief must be put aside for necessity. I had to meet you, to scent that you were indeed what you are. Longevity and exposure have given me many ways to sense and touch Kind and Unkind.” She stood in front of Mycroft. “You also are Aadeshyakar, you do not have a match, it as just as well since you love a beta. Like your brother is unique for his Kind, you are unique for yours Unkind. Juan was Rin as well. Because his blood ever runs through mine I can sense and touch yours.”

Sherlock watched as his brother tensed when Víspera raised her hand and waited.

Slowly, Mycroft raised his hand to hers and they interlocked their fingers. He watched as Mycroft shuddered.

There was a long moment of silence between them before she spoke again.

“Advancements in aerial photography and geophysical imaging may one day yet unearth us here, that is true. For now, we remain hidden via our own means.” She smiled.

Only because he knew his brother well that Sherlock noted the silent shock on Mycroft’s face. He knew neither John nor Lauren noticed.

_She read his thoughts!_

“Trickery? Sabotage of archaeological digs? Play into the good ol’ human fear of hauntings, ghosts and jinn to keep them at bay…?” Mycroft raised a dark brow. “The goldfish of the world do love their superstitions.”

“Oh, man is ever inquisitive indeed. So many, many thoughts, Unkind? More than your brother - impressive!” Víspera cupped Mycroft’s face as she had John and Sherlock’s. “I give you a gift, Mycroft Alexander David Holmes. You are worthying.”

Whatever it was, it was something pleasing. Mycroft looked to the woman in wonder as she walked away and stepped to Lauren.

“You are Aadeshyakar, yes, but you cannot cross bond. Sherlock’s ability to do so came about because he is bonded to an alpha who is the right kind to blend with his and open that ability. The kind you would need is as rare as John. I know it is not your current bond mate. I am sorry.” As she had with the men, she cupped the woman’s face.

Lauren’s face was stoic. She worked with Mycroft Holmes after all. You learn how to keep emotions in check when you need to. Still, one cannot hide their true feelings from the Holmes brothers. To them, Lauren’s disappointment was near palpable as the pleasure of Víspera’s touch to her.

_Nor can one hide from Víspera, apparently._

“If you want this, you will have to sever that bond and find the right kind that blends with you. Provided one is out there and you want this. You, like each of the men here, are unique in your own Kind as Sanka with a touch of Throca. Unkind will never say the words to you, Rin tends to be that way, but you know that for one such as he to allow you in his rarified trust to be here it is praise enough.” Víspera tilts her head towards Mycroft, as she looked at the woman, “I grant you a gift as well.”

Whatever the gift, Lauren bowed her head to the woman with a delighted beam when done. “Thank you!”

Sherlock glanced at his brother. Sensed a glimmer of hope within Mycroft.

“{She gave him the gift of being able to bond Greg.}” John smiled gently.

“{How do you kn…? Ah, I see.}” 

Dealing with human emotions was never his strong suit. John was better at interpreting such and as he watched how his brother thumbed the ring on his right hand he knew John was correct.

_Though the ring is related to work, he plays with it as a married person plays with their wedding band when thinking of their spouse. He is thinking of Lestrade._

All alphas want to bond their mates, even if the mate is beta.

_Ah, Brother Mine, you will be able to bond even him._

Three pairs of eyes turned to the door as a woman’s scream was heard.

John, Sherlock and Mycroft immediately stood, knowing without knowing.

“Ah, Mycroft – I said I have something for you. It is here.” Víspera smiled. There was something chilling about it.

John looked to Mycroft and gave a slight incline of his head.

“Mary.”

Four pairs of eyes in the room went full on black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Staff God**  
>   
>  “The Staff God is a major deity in Andean cultures. Usually pictured holding a staff in each hand, with fanged teeth and splayed and clawed feet, his other characteristics are unknown, although he is often pictured with snakes in his headdress or clothes. He is known as Viracocha in the Incan religion.
> 
> The oldest known depiction of the Staff God was found in 2003 on some broken gourd fragments in a burial site in the Pativilca River Valley (Norte Chico region) and carbon dated to 2250 BCE. This makes it the oldest image of a god to be found in the Americas.”  
> \--From [Wikipedia Staff God ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Staff_God)  
> ^^ Return to Paragraph
> 
>   
>  **Kind**  
>  The Kind names and properties I took from various baby name sites.  
> Aadesh - An order; a command; an instruction.  
> Aayakar - Someone who complies with commands, obedient.  
> Adeshyakar – only happens when the right purer Kind of Aadesh bonds with the right purer Kind of Aayakar. <\- As Lauren noted a portmanteau I made up.  
>  _Cascus (Downed) <.i> \- Old, Ancient, Primitive_  
>  _Helmer_ \- Fighting Fury; Warrior's Wrath.  
>  _Itati (Downed)_ – Stone.  
>  _Nukpana_ – Evil. I was honestly surprised this existed as a name and delighted I could use it.  
>  _Rin_ \- A cold, severe and dignified person.  
>  _Sanka_ \- One that puts heart and soul into everything. (If you’ve seen me before and after I’ve had coffee you’ll understand if some of us will be amused that Sanka is also a brand name of coffee.)  
>  _Samskar_ \- A person with high moral values and good ethics.  
>  _Throca_ \- A creative, quick thinker who is analytical.  
> ^^ Return to Paragraph
> 
>   
>  **The Eight**
> 
> The names of the Eight were based on the 8 Oldest Civilizations.  
> Ancient Egyptians (c. 3,150 BCE – 332 BCE)  
> Norte Chico (c. 4,000 BCE – c. 1,800 BCE) Peru  
> Mesopotamians (c. 6,500 BCE – 539 BCE) Ancient Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq)  
> Jiahu (c. 7,000 BCE – 5,700 BCE) China  
> ‘Ain Ghazal (c. 7,200 BCE – 5,000 BCE) Ayn Ghazal (modern-day Amman, Jordan)  
> Çatalhöyük (c. 7,500 BCE – 5,700 BCE) Southern Anatolia (modern-day Turkey)  
> Mehrgarh (c. 7000-2600 BCE) Indus Valley Kacchi Plain (modern-day Pakistan)  
> Aboriginal Australians (c. 50,000 years ago – Present) Australia  
> ^^ Return to Paragraph  
>    
>  _Please note and forgive the very creative licensing I take with gods and history._


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